It’s a curious feature of our age that we still require, by law, ashtrays in the lavatories of commercial aircraft. Not because we’re nostalgic for the days when the skies were thick with the fug of unfiltered Marlboros, but because—despite decades of prohibition—someone, somewhere, will inevitably decide the rules don’t apply to them. The ashtray is not a relic. It’s a rebuke to the illusion that clear signage and the threat of punishment are enough to deter the determined cretin.
At first glance, an ashtray on a no-smoking flight may seem absurd. But anyone who has worked in safety design, risk engineering, security, or customer service knows the truth: whether out of ignorance, arrogance, or sheer defiance, some people will always push boundaries. And when they do, the consequences can be catastrophic unless the system is built to withstand them. On airplanes, the real danger isn’t the smoking, it’s what happens after. A smoldering cigarette flicked into a trash bin full of paper towels is no minor infraction; it’s a spark away from turning the plane into a firetrap.
Smart safety design doesn’t rely on perfect behavior. It plans for failure The ashtray in the airplane lavatory is a fireproof failsafe, a small admission that while we may outlaw idiocy, we can’t eliminate it. So we contain it. The ashtray doesn’t say, “Go ahead.” It says, “If you must, don’t kill us all.”
Redundancy isn’t wasteful—it’s wise. The same logic gives us fire exits, seatbelts, and those little hammers on buses meant only for when things go very wrong. These features reflect a mature understanding of risk. True safety doesn’t rely on perfect compliance, but on resilient design—built to anticipate that someone, somewhere, will act recklessly, and to shield the rest of us from the consequences.
Idea for Impact: The ashtray isn’t there for the smoker. It’s there for everyone else. A quiet reminder that rules will be broken, and survival depends on being ready.
If you haven’t been tracking your personal finances, kick off with a Personal Net Worth Spreadsheet. It’s not revolutionary, but it is relentlessly revealing. The purpose is clear: record what you own, subtract what you owe, and face the unvarnished truth of the remainder. That number is your net worth—untainted by narrative or intention. It can’t flatter. It won’t excuse. It simply reveals.
.jpg "'How Big Things Get Done' by Bent Flyvbjerg (ISBN 593239512)")
There’s an old joke about the Soviet Union’s approach to industrial planning. It’s been told so often it’s 
We romanticize transformation—new routines, cleaner diets, sharper habits. But in practice, change rarely arrives in cinematic sweeps. It comes in quieter forms: a switch from soda to water, a walk around the block, skipping the evening snack. Small choices. Easily overlooked. In aggregate, 
We make thousands of decisions daily—what to wear, which email to answer first, whether to take the scenic route or stick to the main road. Most are low-stakes, but the act of choosing can sap mental energy. That’s 
A thing can feel bad and be right.
Strategy means nothing without execution. Yet too often, plans drown in opinion. Feedback loops expand. Timelines slip. Clarity 
Yet another preliminary report from a fatal airline accident leaves crucial details unresolved and continues to fuel debate—echoing the 
We will never definitively prove whether mask mandates worked during the COVID-19 pandemic—not with the crisp authority of pharmacological trials—because the circumstances themselves