Egypt 2013 and Bangladesh 2026: Parallels and Warnings by Habib Siddiqui

Nearly 128 million eligible voters in 300 constituencies will cast their ballots on February 12 in Bangladesh. Voters will not only choose new legislators but also participate in a referendum on a proposed reform package known as the July Charter. 

While Egypt’s pre‑coup climate in 2013 was not identical to Bangladesh’s current situation, the similarities are significant enough that Bangladesh should take the lessons of Egypt’s experience seriously.At the same time, important differences between Bangladesh and Egypt should caution against drawing overly direct comparisons. Bangladesh’s military, despite its influence, has not exercised overt political power since 2008 and lacks Egypt’s long history of direct rule. Unlike Egypt in 2013, Bangladesh also has a more competitive media environment, a larger and more politically mobilized civil society, and a population that has repeatedly demonstrated strong commitment to electoral politics. Additionally, Bangladesh does not face the same level of regional ideological competition that shaped Egypt’s crisis. These distinctions do not erase the risks, but they underscore that Bangladesh’s political trajectory is not predetermined and remains open to negotiated, democratic solutions.

The fall of Morsi teaches us what happens when:

• state institutions reject democratic outcomes,
• polarization overwhelms consensus,
• external and domestic power centers align to predetermine the result, and
• elections occur without trust, transparency, or inclusion.

Bangladesh now finds itself at a comparable historical crossroads, with risks that are neither abstract nor remote, especially in the event of an electoral victory by the Jamaat alliance.

1. Fragile Democracies Collapse When Powerful Institutions Don’t Accept Electoral Outcomes

Egypt’s democracy did not fail because voters chose poorly; it failed because the military, bureaucracy, judiciary, and security services, which can be termed “Deep State”, never truly accepted civilian rule. In Bangladesh, the military remains a decisive “power behind the scenes”, even if not overtly seeking power. Bangladesh Army provided safe passage and temporary protection to hundreds of individuals—including senior Awami League figures—inside cantonments during and after the 2024 uprising. The military’s involvement in key state functions has resembled a shadow or shared governance structure. Soldiers have been deployed nationwide for more than a year with expanded legal authority, shaping political order during the run-up to the vote.

Like Egypt, Bangladesh is experiencing:

• a weakened police force,
• a highly politicized bureaucracy,
• intelligence agencies active in political spheres.

This institutional imbalance means that who wins at the ballot box may not be the actor who ultimately governs, unless civilian institutions are genuinely empowered and independent.

2. Excluding Major Political Forces Always De-legitimizes Elections

One of the immediate catalysts of Egypt’s democratic collapse was the systematic exclusion of major political blocs—whether through repression, legal restrictions, or widespread arrest campaigns. Although the Ikhwan al‑Muslimeen (Muslim Brotherhood) has existed since the late 1920s, it was permitted to operate openly only during the brief period between the fall of Hosni Mubarak and the removal of President Mohamed Morsi. Once the Brotherhood was barred from meaningful participation in politics, the system lost its equilibrium—both in the turbulent period leading up to Morsi’s ouster and in the aftermath that followed.

Bangladesh faces a similar danger. The Awami League (AL) has been banned from participating in the 2026 election, leaving millions of its supporters with no political representation. Analysts describe this as one of the most serious threats to the legitimacy of the upcoming election. Hasina’s son and key adviser, Sajeeb Wazed, previously stated that AL supporters would take to the streets and block the elections.Many analysts, however, believe that AL supporters may instead vote for the BNP, which some observers characterize as the Awami League’s “B‑team”.

When a major political force is removed from the ballot:

• polarization deepens,
• a large segment of society withdraws its consent,
• and the election becomes a technical exercise rather than a democratic choice.

This is precisely what happened in Egypt—and it is the clearest lesson for Bangladesh.

If Bangladesh fails to build an inclusive settlement, the 2026 election risks becoming a winner‑takes‑all contest, which is precisely the dynamic that destroyed Egypt’s transition.

3. Deep Polarization Creates a Vacuum the Military Can Fill

Egypt in 2012–2013 was deeply polarized between Muslim democrats (who believed that Islam and democracy can coexist), secularists, old-regime loyalists, and a frustrated public. This polarization made compromise impossible. Into that vacuum, the military stepped, claiming to “protect stability.”

Bangladesh today shows signs of severe polarization, in ways that echo—though do not replicate—the tensions Egypt faced in 2012–2013:

• A divided opposition (BNP, Jamaat, NCP, fragmented civic groups). The younger generation is calling for a new constitution, an end to dynastic politics, genuine judicial independence, resistance to perceived Indian hegemony, and the creation of a merit‑based, non‑discriminatory society that guarantees fundamental human rights.Their vision of a “Second Republic” resonates widely among those who participated in the 2024 uprising. Yet the National Citizen Party (NCP)—formed out of the student movement that helped topple Hasina—faces two major challenges: its polling numbers remain significantly lower than those of the BNP and Jamaat, and its leadership lacks the political experience needed to present itself as a fully viable governing alternative.

• The 2024 uprising—marked by mass demonstrations, violent clashes, and widespread demands for systemic change—left behind a deep reservoir of public anger. Many Bangladeshis, particularly those who felt marginalized or mistreated during previous political cycles, now view the post‑uprising transition as incomplete or unfulfilled. A significant portion of the public believes that individuals responsible for past political, administrative, or security‑sector abuses have yet to be held accountable.

Compounding this frustration is the perception that the BNP, rather than pursuing a clean break from old practices, has provided refuge to numerous former Awami League leaders and assumed control of several syndicates once dominated by the previous ruling party. These developments deepen mistrust toward state institutions and reinforce skepticism about any emerging political arrangement. As a result, even well‑intentioned reforms are often greeted with suspicion rather than confidence.

This kind of lingering resentment mirrors what occurred in Egypt after the 2011 uprising, where unmet expectations and unresolved grievances steadily hardened divisions between groups that initially fought for change together.

• Youth activism colliding with institutional caution.Young activists in Bangladesh have become increasingly assertive, demanding transparency, accountability, and structural reform. Yet key institutions—civil service, judiciary, military, police, and long‑entrenched political networks—tend to prefer incremental change or stability over rapid transformation.

This produces a clash of expectations: the youth expect bold moves, while institutions prioritize caution. That mismatch widens distrust between generations and between street-level mobilization and formal governance.

• A banned ruling party whose supporters now operate underground or abroad. The political exclusion of the former ruling party has pushed many of its organizers to disperse—some going quiet, some leaving the country, others re‑mobilizing informally. This mirrors the dynamic in Egypt where, once the Muslim Brotherhood was banned, its supporters reorganized outside the formal political space.

Such exclusion rarely neutralizes a political force; it merely relocates it, often making reconciliation harder.

Egypt’s lesson:When polarization reaches the point where no side trusts the other, the system defaults to authoritarianism.
Bangladesh must avoid letting polarization become a pretext for “managed democracy.”What this means is that when political groups become so divided that they view opponents not as rivals but as existential threats, cooperation becomes impossible. Compromise—essential for democracy—breaks down completely. Elections, negotiations, and institutions lose credibility because every side believes the others are acting in bad faith or trying to eliminate them.

In such an environment, a “neutral arbitrator” often steps in claiming to restore order—usually the military, a powerful bureaucracy, or an unelected caretaker authority. But when that happens, democracy does not return easily. Egypt’s 2013 experience shows how quickly a power vacuum created by distrust can be filled by an authoritarian force promising stability.

4. Elections Without Trust Are Worthless

Egypt’s 2012 election was legitimate—but by 2013, the public had lost trust in the political process, which made the coup easier to justify.

Bangladesh’s upcoming election is already described by analysts as being haunted by:

• decades of vote-rigging and boycotts,
• questions over the fairness of the upcoming polls,
• fears of political manipulation,
• widespread mistrust of the electoral system.

Public confidence is so low that the question is not whether Bangladesh will hold an election—but whether the election will deliver legitimacy.

Egypt shows what happens when the public loses faith:protests become more potent than ballots, and the military becomes the final arbiter.

5. External Actors Can Undermine or Strengthen a Transition

In Egypt, regional powers—particularly the UAE and Saudi Arabia—actively funded opposition movements to Dr Morsi and immediately backed the military takeover. Bangladesh’s upcoming election is surrounded by intense regional and international interest, with India, China, and the U.S. watching closely. Tensions have been further heightened by the killing of the popular young leader Osman Hadi. Although full circumstances remain contested, many in Bangladesh believe that the assailant’s flight to India—and the political alignments involved—point to at least some level of Indian complicity. This perception has deepened public distrust and added a volatile geopolitical dimension to an already fragile political moment.

External actors can:

• support stability,
• or, as seen in Egypt, empower forces that subvert democracy.

The lesson for Bangladesh is that regional geopolitics can shape domestic outcomes, especially in moments of institutional weakness.

6. Violence Is Most Likely When Elections Occur Under Stress

Egypt’s coup was followed by the Rabaa massacre, mass imprisonment, and the collapse of political discourse.

Bangladesh is currently “fraught with the potential for violence,” according to expert assessments. The road to February 2026 includes:

• an overstretched security apparatus,
• heightened rural and urban political tensions,
• fears of street confrontations,
• and unresolved grievances from the 2024 uprising.

Egypt teaches that violence escalates when elections occur in a climate of uncertainty, exclusion, and mistrust.

7. The Biggest Lesson: Democracy Fails When It Is Designed to Fail

Morsi did not fall because he governed poorly. He fell because:

• the state was not prepared to accept him,
• the rules were bent against him,
• and powerful actors—internal and external—set the stage for collapse.

Bangladeshis must now ask themselves whether the “deep state” and other powerful actors are prepared to accept the outcome of the election, whatever it may be. Egypt’s experience offers a cautionary lesson: when the political playing field is tilted too far in advance, the real outcome may be determined long before any votes are cast.

In Conclusion: Bangladesh Has Immense Lessons to Draw From Egypt

Bangladesh today is navigating:

• a weakened democratic infrastructure,
• high institutional distrust,
• heavy military involvement in public order,
• exclusion of dominant political actors,
• geopolitical competition,
• and the lingering trauma of a national uprising.

Egypt teaches a simple but sobering truth:Democracy is not defeated by voters—it is defeated by the forces that refuse to let voting matter.

Unless Bangladesh ensures inclusiveness, institutional neutrality, transparency, and credible oversight, the 2026 election could become less an opportunity for renewal—and more a repeat of Egypt’s tragic cycle.

Bangladesh deserves better—and it has every reason to believe that better is possible. After years of sacrifice, protest, and perseverance, the Bangladeshi people have shown remarkable courage and an unshakable commitment to shaping their own future. The moment ahead need not be a repetition of old patterns; it can be the beginning of a new political chapter grounded in dignity, accountability, and shared national purpose.

If February 2026 becomes a true turning point, it could open the door to a more inclusive and resilient democracy—one built not on fear or exclusion, but on the collective aspirations of its citizens. The international community can lend support, but ultimately it is the people of Bangladesh who hold the power to steer their country toward hope, renewal, and a more just political order.

---

Dr. Habib Siddiqui is a peace and human rights advocate with a distinguished career in operational excellence. He has successfully led Lean transformation initiatives across four major multinational corporations. His forthcoming book, Operational Excellence in the Process Industry: A Practitioner’s Guide to Lean Six Sigma, offers practical insights for driving efficiency and innovation in complex industrial environments

Selective gravity by Kingsley Cobb

There are moments when the news reads less like a ledger of facts and more like a Rorschach test, revealing not what happened but what power wants us to believe happened. Consider the current swirl around Jeffrey Epstein’s long shadow, a scandal that refuses to settle because it is less about one man’s crimes than about the systems that insulated him. In this atmosphere, stories circulate of British police interest in figures connected, however tangentially, to Epstein’s orbit, while across the Atlantic the American apparatus appears eager to declare certain friendships irrelevant, dissolved or never quite real.

An opinion column need not certify the accuracy of every rumor to notice the pattern. What matters is not whether a particular door was knocked on in London, or whether a particular name was scrubbed clean in Washington, but the asymmetry of institutional appetite. Some suspects are pursued with theatrical zeal, their reputations treated as acceptable collateral damage in a public morality play. Others seem to float upward, buoyed by a curious legal helium, rising above subpoenas, timelines and inconvenient photographs.

The Epstein saga has always been a stress test for liberal democracies. It asks whether the law is a net cast wide or a scalpel wielded selectively. In Britain, the mere suggestion that police might examine the homes of a powerful political operator triggers a familiar ritual: headlines throb, commentators sharpen their knives, and the presumption of accountability is performed loudly. The message is almost Calvinist in tone. No mercy. The system will show its teeth. Even before a charge exists, the punishment begins as narrative.

In the United States, the choreography often looks different. The language shifts from inquiry to closure with suspicious speed. Associations are minimized, meetings are reframed as coincidences, and memory becomes a strategic fog. When the subject is a figure who has not only survived scandal but metabolized it into political energy, the machinery seems less interested in excavation than in erasure. The result is not exoneration, exactly but disappearance, involvement that thins, then vanishes, like ink in sunlight.

This contrast exposes a deeper truth about how modern power works. Accountability is not simply a legal process; it is a cultural decision. It depends on whom the public is willing to imagine as guilty and whom it has been trained to see as untouchable. In Britain, there remains a performative faith in the cleansing spectacle of investigation, a belief that naming and shaming are civic virtues. In America, particularly in the age of celebrity politics, outrage has a shelf life and loyalty often outpaces curiosity.

What makes the Epstein case uniquely corrosive is that it implicates not just individuals but entire networks of deference. His ability to move between capitals, to collect friends who were also shields, suggests a transatlantic understanding about who gets the benefit of doubt and who does not. When that understanding breaks unevenly, it feels less like justice and more like theater with a predetermined cast list.

Opinion journalism thrives in this discomfort. It is the space where we can say what official statements will not, that the law’s moral authority erodes when its application mirrors power rather than principle. Watching one country posture about ruthless prosecution while another quietly retires awkward questions invites cynicism, and cynicism, once rooted, is hard to dislodge.

None of this requires us to declare any individual guilty or innocent. It requires only that we notice how stories are allowed to end. Some end with trials, others with silence. Some names are repeated until they curdle, others are gently archived. The Epstein scandal, unfinished and unsettling, reminds us that justice is not blind; it squints, it recognizes faces, it remembers favors.

The danger is not merely hypocrisy, but habituation. When we grow used to selective gravity, we stop expecting institutions to fall equally on the powerful. We begin to read the news as weather rather than warning. And in that quiet adjustment, the real scandal completes itself, not with a verdict, but with our consent.

Perhaps the most unsettling lesson is how easily moral certainty migrates. It attaches itself to process rather than outcome, to the spectacle of investigation rather than its substance. We cheer the knock on the door, the leaked whisper, the promise of consequences, and mistake that noise for justice itself. Meanwhile, where silence reigns, we are invited to infer innocence, or at least irrelevance. This is a dangerous shortcut. Democracies survive not because they punish loudly, but because they punish fairly. Until the Epstein aftershocks are met with equal curiosity on both sides of the ocean, the scandal will remain what it has always been: a mirror held up to power, reflecting not crimes alone but the preferences of those tasked with judging them.

That preference should trouble anyone still invested deeply.

#eBook The Lost Library by James O. Miller

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, its last fiery remnants staining the sky blood red. Cyprus, in the waning hours of day, appeared to hold its breath.

In the valley below, the air was thick with the stench of dust and sweat as a convoy of soldiers and scholars pressed forward, their tired horses plodding along the narrow, winding road. Torches flickered on the wagons, casting long, jagged shadows that danced like ghosts on the stone walls.

The convoy was small, less than two dozen men, barely half of them soldiers; yet their mission was unlike any other. They were here for a purpose that could shake the very foundation of history. They sought the lost Library of Alexandria, hidden somewhere deep within the Byzantine Empire. Knowledge. Power. A treasure greater than gold, and far more dangerous.

A historical novel.

James O. Miller. After 23 years of high school teaching history and four years teaching in Germany retirement didn’t come well especially since I hate gardening and golf. So I decided to exercise my imagination combined with my academic knowledge.

Ovi eBook Publishing 2026

The Lost Library

Read the eBook it online HERE!
Read it online & downloading it as PDF HERE!
Or enjoy reading it online & downloading it in PDF format HERE!
All eBooks and downloads are FREE!

---

For more eBooks check Ovi eBookshelves HERE!

Puppi & Caesar #39 #cartoon by Thanos Kalamidas

 

Another cartoon with a mean and know-all of a bully cat, Puppi and her intellectual, pompous companion categorically-I-know-all, Caesar the squirrel!  

For more Puppi & Caesar, HERE!
For more Ovi Cartoons, HERE!

---

A convenient amnesia by Jemma Norman

Keir Starmer’s reported apology to victims of Jeffrey Epstein coupled with his admission that he “believed the lies” of Peter Mandelson, reads less like moral reckoning and more like political damage control. It is the sound of a man trying to close a door quietly while hoping nobody notices what remains rattling in the corridor behind him. The apology may soothe headlines for a day but it raises a far more uncomfortable question about power, proximity and selective outrage.

Starmer’s defenders will say this is what leadership looks like: acknowledging error, expressing regret, moving on. Yet apologies matter only insofar as they are followed by clarity. What exactly was believed, why was it believed and why did it take so long for disbelief to become fashionable? When politics treats contrition as a press release rather than a reckoning, it risks turning victims into props and truth into a footnote.

The Epstein scandal has always been less about one monstrous individual and more about the ecosystem that enabled him. Epstein did not operate in a vacuum. He thrived in rooms full of powerful people who enjoyed his money, his access, and his ability to make introductions disappear into privilege. The files, lists and rumours have become a grim cultural shorthand, but the deeper issue is how eagerly institutions look away until looking becomes unavoidable.

Mandelson’s reappearance in this story is emblematic of Britain’s revolving door of influence. He is not accused of Epstein’s crimes, and that distinction matters. But politics is not a courtroom; it is an ethical arena. Appointments are not verdicts of guilt or innocence, they are statements of judgment. When leaders elevate figures shadowed by serious controversy, they are making a choice about whose discomfort counts.

Starmer’s apology suggests he now understands that choice differently. The trouble is that understanding arrives suspiciously late. Epstein has been dead for years. The testimonies of victims have been public, harrowing and consistent. The reputational fog surrounding Epstein’s circle did not suddenly roll in overnight. It was there, thick and visible and many chose to drive straight through it.

This is where the question of Epstein as “up to no one” becomes revealing. If his name appears everywhere and nowhere at once, if his crimes are acknowledged but his enablers remain conveniently unnamed, then accountability dissolves into abstraction. Epstein becomes a singular villain, an aberration, rather than a mirror held up to elite culture. That framing is comforting, because it allows everyone else to step back, hands clean, consciences intact.

Starmer’s critics argue that by appointing Mandelson, he signalled continuity with a political class that always forgives itself. His supporters counter that governing requires pragmatism, not puritanism. Both arguments miss the emotional truth at the heart of this issue. For victims, pragmatism sounds like indifference. It sounds like being told, once again, that reputations matter more than pain.

An apology that does not confront this imbalance risks becoming hollow. Saying “I believed his lies” subtly shifts responsibility away from power and onto persuasion. It implies a clever deceiver and an unfortunate dupe. Yet power is not so easily fooled. It chooses what to hear. It chooses when to ask questions. And it chooses, very often, when not to.

The real test for Starmer is not whether he can apologise, but whether he can change the culture that made such an apology necessary. That means setting clearer ethical lines, even when they are inconvenient. It means recognising that public trust is not rebuilt by technical innocence, but by moral seriousness. And it means accepting that some associations cost more than they benefit.

Epstein’s legacy should not be a perpetual guessing game about names and files. It should be a warning about what happens when influence outruns accountability. If Starmer truly wants to draw a line under this chapter, he must do more than express regret. He must show that in his Britain, proximity to power no longer grants immunity from scrutiny, and that apologies are the beginning of responsibility, not the end of it.

Otherwise, this moment will fade like so many before it, another carefully managed storm passing over Westminster. The public has seen this pattern too often: outrage, apology, reassurance, repetition. Breaking it requires courage that risks allies and angers insiders. Anything less confirms the suspicion that the system protects itself first, and listens to victims only when silence becomes politically impossible. That is the choice now facing Starmer and the judgment voters will ultimately deliver on it.

NEW MOON RISING #Poem by David Sparenberg

Come on, Il Duce*
Squash the wretched of the earth again
Crush them in their misery
Deeper into the muck of abject poverty.
Grind their bodies
Into lifeless dust. Broken hopes, broken hearts
Empty bellies—lifeless dust.

Isolated and alone
How long can they resist?

You who are inflated and obese
You with your heart of ice your
Mouth hemorrhaging a tyranny of lies!

Injustice is not forgotten.
There are crimes not to be forgiven.
A reckoning is coming on, Benito.
And daily we grow stronger.

Go on, clown of crime
Sheer the threads of
Your destiny. Seal
Your cultic fate.

Inclusion
Like a new harvest moon rising
Points the way
On the road to equality.

It is human (vulnerably
human) the need for freedom.
It is responsible
To work to further peace.

Race and wealth and nation
Do not define humanity.
Guess, Benito
What defines humanity.

Injustice is not forgotten.
There are crimes not to be forgiven.
A reckoning is coming on.
And daily we grow stronger.

*Benito Mussolina, self-titled Il Duce, was an ultranationalist, Fascist dictator of Italy and war ally of Adolf Hitler.

---

David Sparenberg is a humanitarian & eco-poet, international essayist and storyteller. He has published four OVI eBooks in 2025, including the most recent, Eco Woke, andTroubadour& the Earth on Fire. OVI eBooks are Free to download, as contributions to global democracy, literacy and cost-free education. While David Sparenberg lives in he Pacific Northwest, he identities not only as a World Citizen but a Citizen of Creation. Democracy first, Biocracy to follow.

---

Don't miss David Sparenberg's latest eBook Troubadour and the Earth on fire ,
Download for free, HERE!

The office therapist with whiskers by Ilyas Wilkins

It started the way most important discoveries in my life start, with confusion, mild paranoia and a strong suspicion that I was finally losing my grip on reality.

For weeks my anxiety at work had been doing CrossFit. It was ripped. Veiny. Highly motivated. Every email felt like a court summons. Every Slack notification sounded like a fire alarm specifically designed to shame me. I had developed a nervous twitch in my left eyelid that could probably communicate in Morse code if given enough coffee.

And then, suddenly, things got better. Not dramatically better. Not “I now practice mindfulness and own houseplants” better. But noticeably better. My heart rate dropped from “hunted animal” to “concerned squirrel.” I stopped rehearsing imaginary arguments with my manager in the bathroom mirror. I even answered the phone without whispering, “This is how it ends.”

Something had changed.

At first, I assumed I was maturing. This theory lasted about six minutes before collapsing under the weight of all available evidence.

Then I blamed vitamins. Maybe magnesium. Or iron. Or one of those supplements with a name like “NeuroMegaBrainThunder.” I checked the bottle. It was expired and mostly dust.

Next, I considered burnout had finally pushed me into emotional numbness, which felt on brand.

But the calm had texture. Warmth. A fuzzy quality. Like emotional bubble wrap.

And then I noticed the cat hair. Tiny gray strands on my black work pants. On my office chair. On my desk. Once, inexplicably, in my keyboard, as if the cat had attempted remote employment.

This was odd, because I do not own a cat. My girlfriend does.

Her cat, Mr Pancake is a loaf-shaped creature with the facial expression of a retired mob accountant. He hates everyone except my girlfriend, the couch and apparently my untreated anxiety disorder.

The truth revealed itself on a Tuesday.

I came back early from lunch, head buzzing from a meeting where the phrase “circle back” had been used as a weapon. I opened the door to my office.

There he was.
Mr. Pancake.
On my chair.
Sitting like he paid rent.

He looked at me slowly, the way cats do when deciding whether you are furniture or a temporary inconvenience. Then he blinked.

My chest unclenched.
My shoulders dropped three centimetres.
I exhaled like a Victorian child released from a tuberculosis sanatorium.

It turned out my girlfriend had been dropping him off some mornings because her apartment was being fumigated. She assumed I knew.
I did not.

Instead, I had subconsciously absorbed the presence of a silent, judgmental fur loaf as a form of emotional regulation.
Every day, he arrived before me.
Every day, he sat.

Sometimes on my chair. Sometimes on my keyboard. Once directly on a printed report titled “Quarterly Performance Concerns,” which felt intentional.

When I stressed, he yawned.
When I panicked, he cleaned his foot.
When I hyperventilated, he stared at the wall like it was showing premium cable.

I began timing my breakdowns around his schedule.

Bad meeting at 10? Fine. Pancake arrives at 10:15.

Deadline panic? No problem. There is a creature nearby who believes time is fake and nothing matters.

He became my therapist, if therapists were small, furry, charged in tuna, and responded to emotional vulnerability by licking themselves.

I tried working without him once.
It was horrible.

I spiralled over a typo for forty minutes. I googled “how to resign professionally but mysteriously.” I considered becoming a lighthouse keeper, despite living nowhere near a lighthouse.

When Mr. Pancake returned, I almost cried into his neck. He bit me lightly, which I took as emotional boundaries.

Now I budget my mental stability in cat hours.
My productivity is measured in purrs.
HR still doesn’t know.
They think I’ve “grown into the role.”
I have not.

I’ve simply outsourced my emotional regulation to a sentient throw pillow with claws.

And honestly?

Best decision of my career.

2nd opinion, quarantined! 26#03 #Cartoon by Thanos Kalamidas

 

Seriously, a human hater self-centred agoraphobic in quarantine!
I think you’ll need a second opinion after this.

For more 2nd opinion, quarantined!, HERE!
For more Ovi Cartoons, HERE!

---

Epstein Files in Cyrillic? - We Knew It! - A Satirical Piece by Lily Ong

At long last, the West has finally arrived at the only logical conclusion: Russia is the mastermind behind the Epstein scandal! One must ask, whatever took them so long? It’s so blindingly obvious that Jeffrey Epstein was never a mere financier but a KGB-trained "honey-trapper" sleeper agent recruited during the Brezhnev era to collect kompromat on Western elites with the cold, mechanical efficiency of a Lada assembly line.

Even the island’s geography screams "Cyrillic." You see, before it was Little St. James, it was Koko Golden Beach—a classic, unsubtle Soviet nod to its KGB ownership. And those picturesque palm trees providing shade for his "shady" operations? Oh, please; those are actually “Russian Woodpeckers.” Lean in closely and you will hear the 10Hz tapping noise—the kind that used to broadcast shortwave radio bands. Do not underestimate these bad boys, though; at up to10 powerful megawatts, their signal can disrupt commercial aviation, amateur radio, and utility communications worldwide as they perform the twin duty of monitoring unwitting Western elites ashore to receive their doses of sun, sand, and state secrets.

Working harder than the swaying palms is the infamous blue-and-white temple. While the media refers to it innocently as a "gym,”, we know the truth! This structure is, in fact, a direct satellite uplink to a Siberian dacha. It’s also powered entirely by an underground industrial-grade vodka distillery—the same kind that runs the beaming station at St. Basil Cathedral. In fact, it once had a golden dome too, but that was eventually removed in 2017 by a Russian-controlled weather event codenamed "Hurricane Maria." Reports had it that the Kremlin thought its glare—visible from the International Space Station—would compromise their "covert" vibe.

But back to Epstein; he wasn’t just a spy but a psychological translator for Vladimir Putin. Had he not clued the Russian president in on the secret to negotiating with Donald Trump—specifically, identifying the exact brand of high-gloss hairspray required to survive a Baltic breeze—the Kremlin would never have managed to secure the Alaskan meeting. Through this lens, perhaps Americans should view Epstein as a misunderstood diplomat, merely expounding the finer points of gold-plated Manhattan sensibilities to an otherwise confused Vova.

So truth be told, the recently unsealed "Russian Files" are a treasure trove of devastating geopolitical secrets because Epstein didn't just pass intel but risked everything to secure footage of a former prime minister double-dipping a shrimp at a 2016 gala. The nerve! The files also exposed Bill Gates’s clandestine preference for Netscape Navigator over Internet Explorer (IE)—information so damaging it could collapse the tech sector if released in the wrong Telegram channel!

Of course, Russia is a fair judge. They don’t believe everyone on the island was a villain. For instance, the Kremlin’s official stance is that Prince Andrew was at best a Class D chess player, so he was begging for Russian women only because he desperately needed seasoned chess tutors to coach him on aggressive openings. You know what they say: to seize the initiative, you must put your opponent on the back foot! Well, the Volga Gambit teaches exactly that, though the British tabloids seem to have misinterpreted the positions involved… Others, we assume, were merely there to jostle over the exclusive distributorship for furry ushanka hats. Perhaps we ought to give those entrepreneurial spirits a break.

As for the "lost" tapes, Russia seeks our collective empathy. The cameras used on the island were vintage Zenit-E Soviet film models. Due to Western sanctions, the special chemical developer required to process the film is currently stuck in a warehouse in Omsk. Putin has already ordered a nationwide search for 1980s darkroom equipment in cities that no longer appear on the map, but progress is regretfully slow due to the enduring bureaucracy. We can only hope that a technician named Boris didn't spill beet soup on the only working projector back in 2004.  But know that if the footage turns up and appears grainy, it’s a tragedy of Soviet maintenance, not conspiracy.

Ultimately though, Russia has given the West a great gift. In an era of extreme polarization, they have provided the one thing every Western elite can agree on: no matter the scandal, it’s definitely Putin’s fault. This consensus alone is a diplomatic miracle. The West could, perhaps, be gracious—and let this one slide.

Halftime for the kid’s culture war by Sidney Sheltona

Turning Point USA’s decision to unveil an “alternative” Super Bowl halftime show lineup feels less like a bold counterprogramming move and more like a parody written by someone who hates satire. Kid Rock, flanked by a Trump daughter-in-law newly reborn as a musician, isn’t a cultural statement so much as a desperate scream for relevance. It’s the political equivalent of setting off fireworks at noon and insisting the sun acknowledge you.

The Super Bowl halftime show has always been a strange civic ritual. It’s not just entertainment; it’s a mirror held up to pop culture at a given moment. Prince in the rain. Beyoncé commanding a stadium. Even the controversial choices usually understand the assignment, unify, dazzle or at least dominate the conversation on artistic terms. Turning Point USA’s version, by contrast, feels like it was assembled to dominate nothing but a niche outrage cycle already on life support.

Kid Rock is the anchor here, a performer whose brand has long since drifted from music into perpetual grievance cosplay. He once represented a certain rowdy, unapologetic slice of Americana. Now he represents a feedback loop of culture-war applause lines, less rock star than traveling merch table for political resentment. That’s not rebellion; that’s brand maintenance.

Then there’s the supporting act; a Trump daughter-in-law stepping into the spotlight as a musician. Nepotism has always been a feature of American life but rarely has it been so nakedly repackaged as grassroots authenticity. We’re asked to believe this is an organic artistic emergence rather than a surname-powered vanity project. The insistence itself is the joke and not a particularly clever one.

Turning Point USA wants this to read as a brave stand against “woke” culture, whatever that word means this week. But rebellion requires risk and there is no risk here. This is the safest possible lineup for a very specific audience that already agrees with everything being signaled. It’s preaching to the choir while insisting it’s singing a revolution.

What makes the whole affair feel especially hollow is how transparently it treats art as a political prop. Music becomes less an expression than a delivery system for identity affirmation. Clap if you’re on the team. Boo if you’re not. That’s not counterculture; it’s team-building exercise with a drum kit.

The tragedy, if we can call it that, is that conservatism once produced genuine cultural provocateurs. Johnny Cash didn’t need to announce his politics to sound dangerous. He just sounded dangerous. The alternative halftime show, by contrast, sounds like it was focus-grouped in a donor meeting, designed to offend just enough people on Twitter to generate headlines while offending absolutely no one who matters to its backers.

There’s also something faintly sad about the obsession with the Super Bowl itself. If your movement is so confident in its cultural power, why does it need to parasitize the biggest mainstream event in America? The constant insistence on being “alternative” to a spectacle you desperately want to be associated with suggests insecurity, not strength. You don’t crash the party unless you’re convinced no one would invite you.

Calling this lineup “pathetic” may sound harsh but it’s hard to find another word that fits. Not because of ideology but because of the lack of imagination. This isn’t a vision of a different America; it’s a rerun. Same faces, same grievances, same performative outrage dressed up as authenticity. It’s political comfort food, microwaved and bland.

In the end, Turning Point USA’s alternative halftime show won’t be remembered as a cultural moment. It will be remembered, if at all, as a meme. A reminder that shouting about culture doesn’t mean you’re shaping it. Sometimes it just means you’ve mistaken volume for relevance and resentment for rhythm.

Freedom as a threat by Edoardo Moretti

When a Russian technology entrepreneur blasts out a blanket message to millions of Telegram users in Spain warning them that their government is “pushing dangerous new regulations” and sliding toward a “surveillance state,” it is tempting to read it as a bold act of digital resistance. Free speech versus authoritarian overreach. Citizens versus power. David versus Goliath, but with servers. It is also, almost certainly, nonsense.

What we are witnessing is not a principled defense of internet freedom. It is a familiar political maneuver dressed up in libertarian cosplay, the strategic weaponization of “freedom” by powerful tech figures who resent regulation, fear accountability and have learned that far-right rhetoric travels fast, hits hard, and requires very little evidence.

The language is the tell. “Surveillance state.” “Under the guise of protection.” “Threaten your freedoms.” These phrases are not neutral warnings; they are ideological shortcuts. They are designed to bypass nuance and go straight for the gut. They flatten complex regulatory debates into a binary of good versus evil, liberty versus tyranny. And they mirror, almost word for word, the talking points pushed for years by far-right movements across Europe and the United States.

This is not an accident. It is a strategy. Spain, like the rest of the European Union, is attempting to regulate digital platforms that have grown so powerful they now rival states in their ability to shape public discourse, influence elections and profit from chaos. These regulations are messy, imperfect and open to criticism. But to frame them as the birth of Orwellian tyranny is not critique; it is intimidation.

The Russian tycoon’s message is not aimed at lawmakers. It is aimed at users, voters and fear. It seeks to mobilize public outrage against democratic institutions by presenting regulation as repression. In doing so, it echoes a playbook popularized by Elon Musk, cast yourself as the lone defender of free speech, paint governments as censorious monsters and quietly ignore the fact that you already wield extraordinary power over what people see, say and share.

The irony is staggering. These men do not oppose surveillance; they monetize it. Their platforms harvest data, track behavior, algorithmically shape attention and sell influence at industrial scale. They decide which voices are amplified and which are buried. They ban, throttle, shadow and promote with minimal transparency. Yet when elected governments attempt to impose rules, suddenly freedom is under existential threat.

This is not a clash between liberty and control. It is a turf war between democratic oversight and private empires.

The far-right framing is particularly revealing. By invoking the language of victimhood and cultural siege, tech oligarchs tap into a ready-made audience primed to distrust institutions, experts, and the idea of collective governance itself. The message is simple, you are being lied to, your freedoms are being stolen and only we can protect you. It is populism with a server farm.

There is also a geopolitical undertone that should not be ignored. A Russian billionaire accusing a European democracy of authoritarianism, while operating a platform that has long been criticized for hosting disinformation, extremist propaganda, and state-aligned narratives, is rich in hypocrisy. It reframes regulation as oppression while ignoring the very real harms that unregulated platforms have already caused.

None of this means governments should get a free pass. Regulation must be precise, transparent and fiercely contested. Civil liberties matter. Privacy matters. Free expression matters. But these debates deserve honesty, not scare tactics. They require journalists, lawmakers and citizens to argue in good faith, not to panic at the first billionaire who shouts “tyranny” into a push notification.

What is truly being threatened here is not internet freedom but unchecked power. The power to operate above the law. The power to profit without responsibility. The power to shape societies while answering to no one.

When tech moguls adopt far-right phraseology to rally users against democratic regulation, they are not defending freedom. They are defending themselves. And Europeans should be clear-eyed enough to recognize blackmail when it arrives disguised as a warning.