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Joined 23 days ago
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Cake day: February 7th, 2026

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  • In fact, for this reason DOGE was not a brand new department but the result of Trump taking over the United States Digital Service, hollowing it out, and turning the shell into the United States DOGE Service. This was a tragedy because the USDS was doing genuinely useful work by bringing in people from the industry to use their experience to improve the incredibly crappy government digital services that exist. I was fortunate enough to see a talk by one of the founding people of the USDS (before it had official existence), and it was inspiring hearing how much of a difference he was able to make and how it made a real impact on the lives of veterans who were dependent on the service that was collapsing.

    Additionally, this was also a tragedy because other departments had essentially been gradually coaxed into granting the USDS access to their data so that USDS could make improvements to their systems, which DOGE immediately took advantage of to get direct access to all of this data after it took over the USDS.









  • In addition, they gave us the Statue of Liberty.

    A French politician actually called for it to be returned—to be clear, it was just a single politician, not the whole government—and the Trump administration said (very heavily paraphrasing), “No, it’s ours, and also you suck for being invaded by Germany, so we deserve it more than you.” However, I personally find it ironic that the administration is so attached to it, given the famous poem inscribed on its base that is inseparable from the signifiance of the statue:

    Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

    With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

    Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

    A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

    Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

    Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

    Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

    The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

    “Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she

    With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,

    Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

    The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

    Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

    I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"