I want to start with a specific feeling. You
know that feeling when you're walking through
a city like say London or maybe parts of downtown
Boston. Oh yeah. It's a mess. The streets turn
at like a 45 degree angle for no reason. You
hit a dead end that looks like it hasn't been
touched since the 1700s and everything is just.
Exactly. It's like a geological formation of
history, mistakes and compromises. Yes. It's
the organic evolution. Yeah. It's chaotic. It's
inefficient. And frankly, it's how most of human
history has actually lived. Right. It's the result
of. thousands of individual decisions made over
centuries, none of which were coordinating with
each other. Exactly. And there is a romance to
that chaos. Yeah. But then you have the total
opposite experience. You drive into a place,
maybe it's a suburb, maybe it's a corporate campus
or a brand new city district, and the feeling
changes instantly. The roads are wide. The curves
are mathematically perfect. Every tree is equidistant
from the next tree. The architecture isn't arguing.
It's all agreeing. It's almost. Uncanny. Uncanny.
That's the word. You're describing the planned
community. It's that feeling of entering a space
where absolutely nothing is accidental. And for
urban planners, architects, and frankly, a lot
of dictators throughout history, that lack of
accidents. is the ultimate dream the ultimate
dream it's the blank slate the idea that if we
just burn the draft and start over we can engineer
utopia and that is the tension we are unpacking
today we're doing a deep dive into the planned
community yeah we've got a massive stack of sources
here everything from archaeological reports on
the indus valley to i mean financial autopsies
of uk new towns and architectural critiques of
modern smart cities it's a huge topic It is.
And we're going to figure out why humans are
so obsessed with building the perfect city from
scratch. Is it efficiency? Is it ego? Or is it
just a desperate attempt to control the messiness
of human nature? I think you'll find it's usually
a mix of all three. And what's really crucial
to understand is that the plan city isn't just
about placing buildings. It's about more than
that. It's about social engineering. I mean,
when you decide where the roads go, you decide
how people meet. When you decide where the houses
face, you decide what privacy means. It's high
stakes stuff. Incredibly high stakes. Okay, before
we get into the 5 ,000 year history, which by
the way, totally blew my mind because I always
thought this was like a 1950s thing. Right, a
post -war phenomenon. Exactly. But let's set
the terms first. We see planned community, new
town, model city. Are these all synonymous or
are we dealing with, you know, distinct taxonomies
here? They're distinct, but they definitely sit
under the same umbrella. A planned community
or planned city? is the broad term it's for any
settlement designed from inception usually on
undeveloped land a green field site so it didn't
grow from a little hamlet no it was born as a
city a new town on the other hand is very specific
to a legislative movement in the uk after world
war ii and a model city usually implies a prototype
an idealistic project meant to be copied somewhere
else got it And just to be super clear, because
I know we have listeners who are into the commune
lifestyle, we aren't talking about intentional
communities today, right? No, that's a good distinction.
We're not talking about six families buying a
farm and sharing a kitchen. No. While the social
impulse is definitely similar, intentional communities
are defined by their social contract. Today,
we're looking at the infrastructure, the urban
planning, and the macro scale. So sewers, grids,
power structures. Thousands or even millions
of people. It's a whole different ballgame. Okay,
so let's go back, way back. Because as I said,
I assumed the grid was a modern invention. Maybe
Roman at the earliest or American? A very common
assumption. But the sources point to the Indus
Valley civilization, specifically the mature
phase around 3300 B .C. That is shockingly old
for this level of organization. It is. I mean,
we're talking about Harappa and Mohenjo -Daro
in present day Pakistan and India. And if you
look at the archaeological maps, you don't see
the winding organic paths of a tribal village.
Not at all. You see a rigorous north -south,
east -west grid. It's comparable to Manhattan.
In 3300 BC. That's just wild. But it's not just
that the streets are straight. It's what was
under the streets that really surprised me. The
sanitation systems. This is the real technical
marvel. The sources detail gravity -fed wastewater
systems. Gravity -fed. We're talking about covered
drains lining the major streets. Now think about
the implication of a covered drain. Right. In
medieval Europe... Thousands of years later,
you had open sewers running down the middle of
the street. It's a disgusting trench. Exactly.
And in 3300 BC, the Indus Valley engineers had
the foresight, and just as importantly, the municipal
authority. to build covered infrastructure. That's
the key part for me, the authority. You can't
build a citywide gravity drainage system if everyone
is just doing their own thing. You can't. You
need a central power saying, this is the grade,
this is the material, and it's going through
your backyard whether you like it or not. Precisely.
It implies a very strong, centralized municipal
government, even though we haven't found grand
palaces that suggest a single monarch. The whole
layout prioritizes the collective hygiene over
individual whims. Wow. And the houses opened
into inner courtyards, turning their backs to
the street noise. It was designed for order and
privacy from the very beginning. So it wasn't
just let's build a shelter. It was a sophisticated
machine for living. A machine for living. That's
a great way to put it. And then naturally, we
have to talk about Egypt. We always talk about
the pyramids, but we rarely ask, where did the
guys who hold the stones sleep? They didn't commute
from Cairo, that's for sure. They lived in purpose
-built worker towns like Cajun. But the real
behemoth mentioned in the text is Pyramids. Pyramids.
This was built by Ramses II in the 13th century
BC. And the scale here is staggering for the
ancient world. The sources say it was the first
city to exceed 100 ,000 people. Some estimates
go up to 300 ,000. Yeah, you have to think about
the logistics of that. 100 ,000 people in a pre
-industrial desert environment. The mind boggles.
You need a constant planned supply chain for
grain, water, and waste removal. If the system
fails for three days, the city collapses. So
this wasn't organic growth at all. Not a chance.
This was a massive state -run logistical operation.
It sounds like a military operation, actually,
which transitions us perfectly to the Romans.
Because if anyone loved a standard operating
procedure, it was the Roman legions. The Romans
were the franchise kings of urbanization. They
had a template called the castrum. The castrum.
It was originally a military camp layout. Square
walls, a grid of streets, a central forum. And
whenever they conquered a new territory, whether
it was for veterans or active duty, they just
stamped this grid onto the landscape. It makes
sense from a command and control perspective.
If I'm a centurion transferred from Pompeii to,
say, Tungeren in Belgium, I don't want to get
lost. No, you want to know the layout. I know
exactly where the commander is. I know where
the granary is. It's identical. It's the McDonald's
model of city building. I like that. Predictability
creates efficiency. Yeah. And you can still see
this grid at the core of dozens of European cities
today. It persists. OK, so let's skip forward
a bit because the motivation starts to shift.
In the Renaissance, you get these ideal cities
like Palma Nova in Italy or Zamość in Poland.
Right. This wasn't about housing troops anymore.
This felt more like vanity. It was intellectual
vanity and it was also about power. Jan Zamoyski,
who founded Zamoysk, was a Polish nobleman who
wanted to bypass royal tariffs. So he just made
his own city? He built his own trade hub. But
he didn't just build a market. He hired an Italian
architect to build a perfect Renaissance city
based on the concept of the ideal human body
and geometric harmony. That is the ultimate rich
guy move. I don't like the king's taxes, so I'm
going to build a geometrically perfect city in
the middle of nowhere. Pretty much. But this
brings us to the biggest shift in the history
of planned communities. The Industrial Revolution.
Exactly. We go from military and royal reasons
to economic reasons. This is the birth of the
company town. Right. And the dynamic changes
completely here. It's no longer about defense.
It's about production efficiency. You build a
factory in a rural area to access resources,
water, power, coal, whatever, and you need workers.
So you build the housing. You build the housing.
But it's never just housing, is it? It's control.
Let's talk about Pullman just outside Chicago.
George Pullman, the sleeping car magnate. Ah,
Pullman. He didn't just build a town. He built
a mechanism to control his workforce's morality.
Absolutely. Pullman, built in the 1880s, was
beautiful on the surface parks, lovely brick
homes, indoor plumbing. Sounds great. But the
social contract was stifling. Alcohol was banned.
Public gatherings were monitored. Pullman's inspectors
could enter your home at any time to check for
cleanliness. There's a detail. In the notes that
I found wild. The church in Pullman stood empty
for years because no denomination could afford
the rent Pullman was charging. He tried to turn
a profit on God. He did. And that, really, it
sums up the flaw of the company town. It treats
civic life as a line item on a balance sheet.
And it all came to a head. It did. When the Panic
of 1893 hit, Pullman cut wages but refused to
lower rents. That led to the famous Pullman Strike,
which crippled the nation's railways. It proved
that you can plan the streets, but if you squeeze
the people too hard, the plan explodes. Speaking
of plans exploding, we have to talk about Fordlandia.
This is my favorite disaster in the whole stack
of sources. Oh, Fordlandia is a classic. Henry
Ford, the man who perfected the assembly line,
decides he doesn't want to pay the British for
rubber. A reasonable business decision on the
surface. So he goes to the Brazilian Amazon to
build his own rubber plantation in town. And
he brings the Dearborn, Michigan mindset to the
rainforest. It's a case study in ignoring local
context. Completely. He built American -style
clapboard houses with asbestos roofs, which in
the jungle heat turned into ovens. Unbearable.
And the diet. Yeah. He tried to force the Brazilian
workers to eat oatmeal and whole wheat bread
and banned alcohol. He was trying to export 1920s
American Puritanism to the Amazon. And he mandated
square dancing. He mandated square dancing. Are
you serious? He believed it was a wholesome moral
activity. Oh, my God. Imagine the scene. Sweltering
heat, exhausted workers, and Henry Ford's managers
demanding they do -si -do. It had to end badly.
It led to a revolt. The workers literally chased
the managers into the jungle. Wow. But the failure
wasn't just cultural, right? There was a massive
agricultural failure, too, because Ford didn't
listen to the botanists. Correct. In the wild,
rubber trees are spaced out to prevent the spread
of leaf blight. Makes sense. Ford planted them
in tight rows like corn in Iowa. for efficiency.
The blight jumped from tree to tree and destroyed
the entire crop. It's a perfect metaphor. It
is. He tried to impose an industrial grid on
a biological system and nature pushed back hard.
So company towns are all about control. But as
the industrial cities like London and Manchester
became choked with smog, a new movement emerged.
The Garden City. Right. This wasn't about control.
This was about escape. This is Ebenezer Howard.
He publishes tomorrow. A peaceful path to real
reform. In 1898, he has this famous diagram called
the three magnets. A three magnet. One magnet
is the town. It has jobs, but it's dirty. One
is country. It has clean air, but no jobs. The
third is town country, the garden city. It sounds
lovely. Town country. The theory was to capture
the best of both. Moderate density, surrounded
by a green belt of agriculture, all connected
by rail. Letchworth and Welland Garden City in
the UK were the prototypes. And they were radical
at the time. Totally radical. Zoning that separated
industry from homes, plenty of public green space.
It was a huge step forward. And this idea eventually
crosses the Atlantic and it mutates into something
massive, the American suburb. Yes. But the motivation
shifts again. It's not just high -minded reform.
It's mass production. Enter Levittown. Levittown
is to housing what Ford was to cars. William
Levitt applied the assembly line to construction.
How did that even work? They broke the building
process down into 26 steps. One crew poured concrete,
the next framed, the next roofed. They could
finish 30 houses a day. 30 houses a day. That
is insane speed. But there's a darker side to
this efficiency that we need to unpack. Yeah,
we do. The sources are very clear that these
planned communities were not for everyone. They
were explicitly exclusionary. The Federal Housing
Administration. the FHA, often required restrictive
covenants to insure the loans. And a restrictive
covenant means? It meant that in many of these
new perfect suburbs, like the Greenville communities
or even Levittown itself, African -Americans
were barred from buying homes. So it was baked
into the financial system. Baked right in. There's
a note here about Concord Park in Pennsylvania.
It was built by a progressive developer, Morris
Milgram, who wanted to integrate. Right. He tried.
But even he had to capitulate to the financiers.
He had to set a quota. He capped African -American
residency at 45 percent because the banks believed
that if it went over 50 percent, white flight
would occur and property values would crash.
So even in a progressive planned community. The
financial models enforced segregation. And then
you have places like Ronert Park in California,
which marketed itself as a country club for the
middle class. Laughs. That slogan says it all.
It's selling exclusivity. You're buying into
a club where you know exactly who your neighbors
are and who they aren't. Exactly. And that evolution
continues. In the 60s, you get Reston, Virginia,
and Columbia, Maryland, which tried to be more
inclusive and mixed use. The noble effort. But
then, enter Disney. Celebration, Florida. I've
been to Celebration. It feels like you're walking
around inside a movie. That's the whole point.
It's new urbanism wrapped in nostalgia. And now
Disney is launching story living. Entire residential
communities in places like Rancho Mirage. Story
living. Yep. It shifts the value proposition
from efficiency or nature to narrative. You are
paying to live inside a curated story where the
sidewalks are always clean and the background
music is always pleasant. It's the Truman Show
as a business model. Pretty much. But while America
was building these suburbs, the U .K. was doing
something completely different. The New Towns
Experiment. This wasn't private developers. This
was the state. Yeah, and the context here is
key. Post -World War II, Britain is battered.
The Luftwaffe destroyed millions of homes. You
have this terrible overcrowding in Victorian
slums. So they had to do something drastic. They
did. The government passes the New Towns Act
of 1946. They didn't just want to build houses.
They wanted to physically move populations out
of London into self -contained towns. And the
big daddy of them all is Milton Keynes. The third
generation, yep. Milton Keynes is fascinating
because it was designed for the car, but differently
than L .A. How so? It has a grid of distributor
roads designed to keep through traffic out of
neighborhoods. You can drive across a city at
60 mile for all, but your house is on a quiet
cul -de -sac. A city for the car, but not through
the homes. Exactly. And we have to mention the
concrete cows. Yes, the famous public art. It
became a punchline for the artificiality of the
place. Look, even the nature is fake. But the
real issue with the Newtowns wasn't the cows.
It was the money. The sources mentioned the financial
model was tricky. What does that mean? It was
a huge gamble. The development corporations borrowed
money from the Treasury to buy the land and build
the infrastructure. The plan was that as the
town grew, land values would rise and they would
pay back the loan with interest. Sounds plausible.
But in the 1970s and 80s, inflation skyrocketed.
The interest payments ballooned, but the land
values didn't catch up fast enough. Oh, no, no.
It became a massive debt trap for the government.
And socially, it wasn't a paradise either. They
coined a term for it, Newtown Blues. This is
a crucial psychological phenomenon. They took
families from the slums of East London. Now,
those slums were poor, but they were tight -knit.
Right, you had community. You knew your neighbor,
your mom lived down the street. They moved them
to a pristine new house in Stevenager. Milton
Keynes. Yeah. And suddenly, silence. Isolation.
No grandma down the street, no pub on the corner.
Right. Just miles of identical housing. It created
profound social isolation and depression. It
proves that community is harder to build than
infrastructure. So much harder. You can pour
concrete, but you can't moor friendship. Precisely.
Okay, let's stale up. We've talked about towns.
Now let's talk about power. Capital cities. Because
sometimes a country decides the old capital is
too messy or too dangerous or just too old politics
and they build a new one. This is nation building
through architecture. And usually the motivation
falls into one of three buckets. Neutrality,
development, or defense. Okay, let's hit neutrality
first. Canberra, Australia. Classic sibling rivalry.
Sydney and Melbourne both wanted to be the capital.
I can see that. Neither would agree to the other.
So in 1908, they compromised. We'll build a new
city in the middle. They held an international
design contest, and an American couple, Walter
Burley Griffin and Marion Monty Griffin, won.
And the design is very geometric, right? Not
organic at all. It's beautiful on paper. It centers
on a massive man -made lake. lake burley griffin
with radiating axes aligned with topographic
landmarks so it's the opposite of sydney sprawl
the total opposite it's a city designed for bureaucrats
to work in peace okay then you have the development
play this is brasilia ah the ultimate modernist
statement President Juscelino Kubitschek in the
1950s promised 50 years of prosperity in five.
Ambitious. And Brazil's population was clinging
to the coast. He wanted to force the country
to look inward, to the Amazon, to the resources.
So he moved the capital to the geographic center.
And the design. It looks like an airplane. Yeah,
that's the common description. Lucio Costa's
plan is shaped like a bird or a plane. And Oscar
Niemeyer's architecture is iconic. Those white
swooping curves. But the planning. This is where
it gets controversial. It's based on super blocks.
It is. Unpack the super block for us. Why does
that matter to the average person living there?
Well, a traditional city has streets and corners.
Corners are where you bump into people, where
you start a protest, where you open a bodega.
The messy human parts. Exactly. Brasilia has
sectors. There's a hotel sector, a banking sector.
The residential zones are these massive super
blocks with no streets in the traditional sense,
just access roads. So it kills the street life.
It kills the serendipity. It was designed for
the automobile age. You don't walk in Brasilia.
And sociologically, some critics argue this was
intentional. Intentional how? It's very hard
to organize a revolution in a city with no public
squares and vast distances between everything.
Which leads us to the third motivation. Defense.
Or paranoia, depending on how you look at it.
Naipia da Manmar. Right. In 2005, the military
junta moved the capital from Yangon to a greenfield
site in the middle of the jungle. Just packed
up and left. And it is massive. We're talking
20 -lane highways that are completely empty.
It moves the government away from the coast,
protecting against amphibious invasion, and it
isolates the leadership from the general population.
It's a fortress disguised as a city. That's a
perfect description. And this trend isn't dying.
I mean, Indonesia is building New Santara because
Jakarta is sinking. Egypt is building a new capital
because Cairo is bursting. It's happening all
over. It seems like the capital city business
is booming. It is, but the center of gravity
has shifted. In the 20th century, the West was
building new towns. In the 21st century, the
megaprojects are almost exclusively in Asia and
the Middle East. Okay, let's dive into that.
Section six, the modern megaprojects. Because
the scale here makes Levittown look like a Lego
set. It really does. Let's look at China. China
has a deep tradition of planned cities. Ancient
capitals like Chongyan were strict grids based
on feng shui and imperial power. A long history
of this. A very long history. But today they're
building special economic zones. Kudong in Shanghai
was farmland in 1990. Now it has a skyline that
rivals Manhattan. And now they have Xiangyan.
Xiangyan is President Xi's legacy city. It's
being built about 100 kilometers from Beijing.
It's intended to be a showcase of ecological
civilization. So a green city. Automated traffic,
massive green spaces, limiting population density.
It's the state trying to prove it can solve the
big city disease of pollution and congestion.
Then you go to the Middle East and you see these
two different visions of the future. You have
Jubail in Saudi Arabia and Mazdar in the UAE.
Very different visions. Jubail is the industrial
titan. It was built in the 70s and 80s, essentially,
to process oil and petrochemicals. It's the largest
civil engineering project in the world. Wow.
And get this, it creates 50 % of Saudi Arabia's
drinking water through massive desalination plants.
It's a city of brute force engineering. And Mazdar,
what's its story? Mazdar is the eco -utopia.
Designed by Norman Foster's firm, it was meant
to be zero -carbon, zero -waste, car -free. It
uses ancient Arabic design principles, narrow
streets to create shade, wind towers to catch
breezes. Total tech. Combined with high -tech
solar. But the sources suggest Masdar hasn't
quite hit its targets. It's a bit of a ghost
town. It's struggled to attract tenants. It's
very expensive. And it highlights the risk of
these smart cities. You can build the most sustainable
building in the world, but if people don't want
to move their business there, it's just a museum
of good intentions. And there's a darker undertone
to the smart city concept, too, isn't there?
In places like China or the new developments
in the Middle East, smart means sensors. It means
cameras. It means data. Absolutely. A smart city
is a surveillance city. If the garbage can tells
the central server when it's full, that's great
efficiency. Sure. But if the streetlight tracks
your gate and facial recognition logs your entry
into a building, you have created a panopticon.
The planned community becomes the monitored community.
That's a chilling thought. Okay, let's take a
detour into the weird stuff. Section 7. Curiosities.
Because sometimes you don't build a city for
a nation. You build it for a specific type of
person. Right. Scientists? The Soviet Union loved
this. Akadem Gordak. Academic Town in Siberia.
Academic Town. They took the best physicists,
mathematicians, and biologists, gave them better
apartments and better food than the rest of the
USSR, and put them in the middle of a forest.
It sounds like a golden cage. It was. It allowed
for a degree of intellectual freedom that didn't
exist in Moscow, but it was also a way to contain
them. And Japan did something similar. With Tsukuba
Science City, they consolidated dozens of research
institutes. But again, the Newtown Blues hit.
There were high rates of suicide and depression
in Sukuba in the early years because it was sterile.
Just labs and no life. No nightlife, just labs.
Then you have resource towns. Kiruna in Sweden
is the wildest story here. Kiruna is incredible.
It exists for the iron mine. But the mine has
dug so deep that the ground is destabilizing.
The town is literally sinking into the earth.
So they have to abandon it. No. Instead of closing
the mine. They are moving the town. Moving it,
like packing boxes? No, moving buildings. They
are putting historic buildings on massive flatbed
trucks and driving them three kilometers east.
You're kidding me. It's an incredible feat of
engineering, but it shows the precarity of a
single -purpose town. And the ultimate tragedy
of the single -purpose town has to be Pripyat.
Pripyat was the atomic city. It was considered
a plum assignment in the USSR. Modern, young,
full of roses, built for the workers of the Chernobyl
plant. And in 1986, it was evacuated in 36 hours.
It's the ultimate ghost city. Now, a time capsule
of failed planning and failed technology. There's
one more I have to ask about because it sounds
fake. The marble city. Ashgabat, Turkmenistan.
What's the deal there? The former president had
an obsession with white marble. The city holds
the Guinness World Record for the highest density
of white marble -clad buildings. Wow. It looks
blindingly bright in the sun. Wide boulevards,
gold statues of the leader, and almost no people
on the streets. It is a monument to one man's
ego, solidified in stone. So we've toured the
world. We've seen the grids, the sectors, the
marble, and the swamps. The big question is,
does it work? Session eight, success and failure.
It's a spectrum. It's not a simple yes or no.
Okay, so let's start with the failure. On the
failure side, we have Fortlandia, obviously,
or a place like Craigavon in Northern Ireland.
Craigavon. It failed because it tried to be a
linear city strung out along a highway. But humans
don't live linearly. We live radially. We want
a center. When you strip the center, you kill
the heart. And on the success side, what's the
gold standard? Singapore. It is the gold standard.
It's a city -state that is entirely planned.
The Housing Development Board, the HDB, builds
these massive high -rise estates where 80 % of
the population lives. 80%. And they are integrated
with transit, food courts called hawker centers,
and parks. So why does Singapore work when the
projects in the U .S. or U .K. failed so badly?
Constant maintenance and adaptation. They don't
just build it and leave. They renovate, they
upgrade, and crucially, they use ethnic quotas
in the housing blocks to enforce integration,
preventing ghettos from forming. So it's social
engineering. It is social engineering, yes, but
it created stability. But there's a lingering
criticism in all the sources, the soul problem.
It's sort of Jane Jacobs versus Robert Moses,
right? This is the eternal debate. Jane Jacobs
argued that a city needs friction. It needs old
buildings next to new ones. It needs narrow streets
where people bump into each other. It needs the
accident. It needs the accident. Planned cities,
by their very definition, remove the accident.
They are efficient, but they often feel sterile.
It's like the difference between a forest and
a tree plantation. Oh, that's a perfect analogy.
A tree plantation has more timber, but a forest
has an ecosystem. That is a perfect way to put
it. And that brings us to the present. We are
in a boom of planned cities, smart cities, eco
-cities. So are we just repeating the mistakes
of the past with better Wi -Fi? That is the big
risk. We are solving for efficiency and data,
just like Pullman solved for hygiene and Ford
solved for production. But are we solving for
happiness? That's the question. A smart city
that knows your heart rate but doesn't give you
a place to hang out with your friends is just
a high -tech prison. It seems like the lesson
is you can plan the hardware, but you have to
let the software, the people, be a little bit
messy. You have to leave room for the unplanned.
That's where the life happens. Okay, I want to
leave the listener with a thought experiment.
We've been critiquing emperors and billionaires
for an hour. Now it's your turn. If you were
given a blank map and infinite money to design
a city from scratch, your utopia, what is the
first thing you would build? Not the sewer, not
the power plant. A first feature that defines
the place. And what is the one thing you would
absolutely ban? That is a dangerous amount of
power, I think. I would start with a central
piazza, a big open square. A place with no commercial
purpose, just sitting. Benches, fountains. I
like that. And the ban. And I would ban billboards.
No ads. No ads. Let the architecture speak for
itself. Let the trees speak. I like it. A quiet,
ad -free piazza. I'd probably ban cars and build
a giant slide, but that's why you're the expert.
We can workshop it. I'm open to the slide idea.
Thanks for diving deep with us today. This was
a massive topic. My pleasure. It was great. And
to our listener, whether you're in a grid, a
cul -de -sac, or a chaotic medieval alleyway,
look around. Someone planned that. Or maybe they
didn't. See you next time.