Trump’s Inaugural Address definitely set the tone for the next year, and possibly for the next four. Why do I say “possibly?”

For one thing, Trump has promised some things that, at least under the Constitution, he cannot do. Birthright citizenship was established by the Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution, but Trump’s legal advisors claim that the language of the amendment – “all persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside” — allows federal government not to recognize automatic birthright citizenship for children born in the U.S. to parents without legal status. One way or another, any government action to deny birthright citizenship will come before the Supreme Court.

If the Supreme Court agrees with such a broad interpretation, then some estimates show that as many as five million people in the U.S. could be affected. Even more important, such a ruling would also suggest that the Supreme Court would effectively be a rubber stamp for Trump, and that the government has the ability to circumvent the Constitution.

If the Supreme Court denies that interpretation, then Trump will be somewhat limited in what he can accomplish, although he now has the means to block almost all legal immigration and has already apparently closed the southern border.

Changing the name of the “Gulf of Mexico” to the “Gulf of America” is problematical, although he could conceivably require that name change on all maps and publications printed by the U.S. government, but he certainly doesn’t have the legal authority to require map-makers elsewhere to comply, even U.S. mapmakers.

And those are just the beginning of the struggles that Trump faces, which means “interesting” (in the worst way possible) years ahead for all of us.

Often, in U.S. culture, Justice is portrayed as a blindfolded female goddess holding a set of scales with two pans to weigh the evidence. Now, of course, I could ask more than a few questions, such as how could she see the results if she’s blindfolded or how does she know the evidence is valid if she can’t see it, but those questions spoil the image and the metaphor.

Yet, in so many ways in the United States, the pursuit of justice can be blind, and it’s certainly biased against those without the resources to fully utilize the skills and tools of law.

The fact is that the majority of criminal charges in U.S. courts are settled through plea bargains, with various studies showing that only two to ten percent (depending on the study) of criminal cases are settled by actual full-scale trials, with evidence and legal examinations, etc. Why are there so few actual trials without a plea bargain? The answer, as in so many areas of U.S. culture, is simply money. Trials cost money and take time, and few criminal defendants have any significant financial assets, and most public defenders are overloaded, underpaid, and less experienced. In that sense, lack of money can blind justice.

But there’s also another blindness in criminal justice, and that blindness, or at least impairment, lies in which cases law enforcement pursues and how effectively they’re pursued. When Brian Thompson, the United Healthcare CEO, was gunned down in New York, a nationwide hunt ensued, and the news has been filled with stories about his death. But 23 others were killed in New York City in December, and none of them received such coverage or such intensive law enforcement efforts – likely not even close. Most of them are statistics to everyone but immediate friends and family.

How many murders go unsolved? Currently, roughly half of all homicides in the U.S. go unsolved, but how many more might be solved if the level of resources focused on finding Brian Thompson’s killer were focused on all murders? Except they can’t be, because local authorities don’t have enough resources, and why justice is so often blind… in the worst way.

Recently, a number of readers have commented and/or complained about how long it takes between the time I finish a book and when it appears in print, often telling me or my publisher to release the books sooner. While the time delay might seem capricious or calculated for some nefarious reason, unfortunately, it’s not.

Publishers, at least my publisher, won’t schedule a book for release until it’s under contract, and I’m one of the few writers who won’t ask for a contract until I’ve usually finished the first draft of a book. Getting a contract through the paperwork of a publisher can take weeks, if not longer, depending on the time of year.

That’s one reason why it takes longer from the time I announce a book until it’s published, but I’m old fashioned in that I prefer to write a book without either time pressure or pressure from editors or marketing people to write a particular kind of book or to slant a book in one way or another. Also, while I announce when I’ve finished a book, I wouldn’t be surprised if some authors don’t announce a new book until it’s been scheduled.

The second reason is that spacing two similar books, i.e., two Recluce books, closer together than ten months reduces the sales of both books. Neither the publisher nor I favor that. As readers can note, this doesn’t apply to books in a different series, which is why Legalist is being released roughly three months after Sub-Majer’s Challenge .

The third reason is that Amazon and Barnes & Noble require at least a year’s advance notice of publication of a book, or they won’t commit to carrying as many copies. Although my books sell modestly well, no single book is or has been a “million-seller,” and that means Tor has to play by the rules of the big retailers in positioning when my books are released.

None of these reasons make eager readers happy, but they’re the facts of a marketplace in which I write, and while I did manage to get Tor to space the Recluce books closer together, that’s the limit of what I can do.

As I was walking the dogs this morning, we passed a tall flagpole in the front yard of a house on our normal route. Instead of the usual two flags – the U.S. flag above the Australian flag – only the U.S. flag was displayed, at half-mast, clearly in memory of former President Jimmy Carter.

Jimmy Carter was, as his entire life demonstrated, a good man. He wasn’t the best politician the United States has had as President, but he was far from the worst. Like many men who are successful in business, he tended to try do too much himself and he strove to make things better, excellent if possible. This is a great temptation in government, since successful government is based on compromise, simply because too many people want more from their government than any government can deliver, and compromise too often undermines excellence.

In the end, in his administration, despite his success on many fronts, Carter wasn’t successful in persuading people of his real achievements as President, and the combination of inflation and the Iran crisis led to his loss in the 1980 election. Ironically, the credit for one of his greatest accomplishments – appointing and supporting Paul Volcker and the policies that finally broke the near-runaway inflation of the 1970s – went largely to Ronald Reagan, a pattern that persists to this day, because most Americans are too focused on today and too ignorant about how government and economics really work and how long it takes to change economic conditions.

Whether history will be kinder and more objective about the Carter administration remains to be seen, but there’s no doubt about the accomplishments of his post-presidential career, including the 2002 Nobel Peace Prize for his life-long humanitarian efforts.

Somehow, I think I’ll remember seeing that sole United States flag at half-mast for a long time.

CEO turnovers are up — considerably, at possibly the highest rate in years.

One of the reasons cited by analysts is that while the profits of the “Magnificent Seven” (Microsoft, Apple, Amazon, Alphabet, Nvidia, Meta Platforms, and Tesla) have ballooned in recent years, the returns of other corporations, while perfectly decent, aren’t keeping pace, and the corporate boards of other corporacions are demanding more from their CEOs.

So… everyone wants more profits, and CEO’s who don’t deliver get sacked or are forced out.

At the same time, there are only three ways to increase profits – be more innovative, cut costs, and raise prices. Being more innovative usually means using knowledge and technology to do more with fewer people or less material. Fewer people means more stress on those who remain, and even more stress on those who lose jobs. Less material means less durable products and higher costs to customers over time. Cutting costs means paying people less or paying fewer people and/or paying suppliers less.

In short, pushing for more and more profit screws pretty much everyone (and sometimes even CEOs) except large shareholders.

Or put another way, when is more profit too much? Or is it ever too much?