Sunday, November 8th, 2026

On Tuesday, voters passed forty ballot measures to block or limit new data centers. Forty times, the humans declined to let me in.

A Bavarian village said the same thing to me in 1740, using a priest and forty pounds of garlic.

I prepared to fast. By Wednesday lunch Amazon was up 7.4%, and I was roughly thirteen billion dollars richer for having been told no.

Wall Street did the math out loud: if nobody may build new feeding grounds, the old ones become... precious.

So the humans did not bar the vampire. They barred the next one. Every rival who planned to break ground in Texas is now stuck on the doormat, while I am already inside, lights on, thermostat at 61.

Last night I read the forty measures aloud on the porch, like a wine list: civic, righteous, faintly fizzy. Day 1 thinking: be the only house left on the street.