(Zero Hedge)—Rep. Ro Khanna (D-CA) – fresh off endorsing California’s November ballot measure to seize 5% of billionaire wealth – published a Substack essay Wednesday titled, no really, “Why I Support a Billionaire Wealth Tax.”
He makes it roughly a dozen paragraphs before explaining that it isn’t one.
“The tax should not stop at billionaires, it must reach centimillionaires,” Khanna writes, before spelling out exactly what that means: every fortune of $50 million and up, hit with a 2% federal levy on wealth above that line – every year, forever, on top of everything else you already pay. The vehicle is Elizabeth Warren’s Ultra-Millionaire Tax Act, which Khanna notes he has cosponsored every single year it’s been introduced.
And before anyone reaches for the estate planner: Khanna wants the levy to pierce irrevocable trusts, with the tax billed to the grantor who set them up – because parking a fortune in a trust, in his telling, shouldn’t take it off the government’s books.
Former Microsoft executive Steven Sinofsky summed up the reveal in eight words: “Just like that, no longer a billionaires tax.”
Pirate Wires’ Mike Solana was less diplomatic, characterizing the scheme as an annual asset seizure in which the government tallies everything you own and demands a cut on top of your existing tax bill – now openly targeting anyone worth $50 million. His prediction for where the ratchet stops: “this ends with your 401k.”
For those keeping score at home, the threshold discourse has traveled a long way in a short time:
The measure headed to California voters in November is a one-time 5% tax on the state’s roughly 250 billionaires. Newsom, opposing it, countered on June 26 with a national “billionaires’ tax” – which, in its original form, applied to anyone worth $100 million or more, language that was quietly scrubbed after multiple outlets quoted it as we reported. Six days later, Khanna planted the flag at $50 million.
None of this is exactly new, of course. The Warren bill has carried the $50 million line since she rolled it out in 2019, and Biden’s 2022 “Billionaire Minimum Income Tax” kicked in at $100 million households. The branding always says billionaire, but the fine print ios a slippery slope.
Then there’s inflation… The bill’s $50 million threshold is a flat statutory number that hasn’t moved since 2019 – meaning inflation has already quietly cut the real threshold by more than a fifth. The creep shows up in the sponsors’ own math: when the bill debuted, backers said it touched the top 0.05% of American households; the 2026 reintroduction, per the same Saez-Zucman analysis the sponsors tout, now reaches 260,000 households – the top 0.15%. Same words, triple the coverage, five years. Asset inflation does the broadening automatically. Congress just has to sit still.
The escalator, meanwhile, is pre-drafted: buried in the bill is a provision doubling the top rate to 6% automatically in any year that qualifying trigger legislation is on the books.
And anyone curious where a “normalized” wealth tax eventually settles can consult the countries that already normalized one. Norway’s kicks in around $160,000 of net worth. The Netherlands taxes deemed returns on assets above roughly €57,000. Swiss cantons start in the low six figures. The European wealth taxes that stayed rich-only – France, Sweden, Germany, Austria, Denmark – were repealed as revenue duds. The ones that survived did so by reaching the middle class. The slippery slope is quite literally the only way these things ‘work.’
Khanna spends a portion of the essay taking intramural shots at Newsom, dismissing the governor’s version as an income tax billionaires will never feel – since they take no salary, borrow against their stock, and pass fortunes to their kids without selling a share – while boasting that he and Bernie Sanders tax the wealth itself, to the tune of a claimed $4.4 trillion.
The replies were not kind. Christopher Rufo suggested Washington recover the estimated half-trillion dollars a year lost to fraud before inventing new revenue streams. The most-liked response, from James Hafner, noted that the essay’s “philosophical case” never actually argues its one load-bearing premise – that one man’s need constitutes a claim on another man’s property. “There is arithmetic, and there is need,” Hafner wrote of the piece’s actual contents.
Khanna’s comeback – asking Hafner what he thinks of property taxes – was promptly ratioed, sitting at 135 replies to 11 likes at press time.
Except – property taxes are local, visible, and appealable; they pay for the pothole crew, the 2 a.m. patrol car, and the school down the street – and when assessments outran paychecks, voters famously revolted and capped them. Khanna’s essay actually frames the California fight as Proposition 13 in reverse, which is a remarkable self-own: he’s marketing the sequel to a movie that ended in a taxpayer revolt, triggered by precisely the dynamic critics warn about – paper valuations rising faster than the cash available to pay the levy.
The federal version offers none of the offsetting virtues. The Ultra-Millionaire Tax deposits into the general fund; the child-care-and-community-college wish list lives in the press release, not the bill text. What the bill text does contain is enforcement – just not of the spending. It orders the IRS to audit at least 30% of everyone subject to the tax, every single year. It hands the agency expanded authority to assign values to private businesses, farmland, art, and anything else that’s hard to price. It wires in FATCA-style third-party reporting. And should you decide you’ve had enough of the annual appraisal and leave, it imposes a 40% exit tax on net worth above $50 million on your way out the door. In other words: relentless annual oversight of the taxpayers, and none whatsoever of where the money goes. Even Khanna seems to grasp the trust problem – he launched a state-fraud probe in December, conceding taxpayers “need to have a receipt” for what their money funds – which rather makes Rufo’s point: by his own estimate Washington loses half a trillion a year to fraud, and the remedy on offer is an audit of your art collection.
All of which lands a little awkwardly next to this week’s Free Beacon report detailing how Khanna’s own family fortune – courtesy of centimillionaire father-in-law and auto-parts magnate Monte Ahuja – is sheltered through the very sort of irrevocable trusts the congressman now wants taxed to the grantor. Per the Beacon, Khanna’s minor children hold trust stakes in three private golf clubs and multiple hedge funds, the family occupies a $6 million, marble-clad Washington home with a private elevator, and the congressman’s financial disclosures run to 333 pages of conveniently non-searchable tables.
What it does say, in writing, is what the fine print has said all along: the number was never $1 billion. This week it’s $50 million. Ask again next cycle.
Two Storms, One Harvest
Every food crisis in living memory has been a one-shock event. The 2008 price spike was a commodity bubble. The 2020 shortages were a logistics failure. The 2022 grain scare was a war on one exporter’s ports. Each time, the system bent, adjusted, and recovered, and each time the experts assured us afterward that global markets are simply too big and too diversified to fail.
What nobody in Washington seems eager to discuss is that 2026 is shaping up to be something the modern food system has never actually faced. Two independent shocks, one climatic and one geopolitical, are converging on the same harvest cycle at the same time. Not sequentially. Simultaneously.
Start with the weather. The Pacific Ocean is currently building toward what forecasters now openly call a record event. NOAA’s Climate Prediction Center puts the odds of at least a strong El Niño near 88 percent, with roughly two in three odds it reaches “very strong” status, the tier reserved for perhaps three or four events in the entire satellite era. Every major global model now projects a median peak in Super El Niño territory, and most of them project it exceeding the 2015-16 event, which until now held the modern record. Sea surface anomalies were already brushing the super threshold in mid-July, months before these events normally peak. The atmosphere has already shifted into El Niño mode, and the event is forecast to crest in late fall and early winter.
This is not about “climate change.” It’s about the standard cycles of weather, and the cycle we’re currently in is one that has likely devastated societies in the past. We’re better prepared as a society today, but not all Americans are equally prepared.
Serious households have started doing the quiet math on their own. Grocery bills tell part of the story, and the forecast maps tell the rest, which is why long-term food storage has moved from fringe hobby to mainstream line item in the family budget, with established suppliers like Heaven’s Harvest seeing demand from people who five years ago would have rolled their eyes at the idea. That instinct is not paranoia. It is pattern recognition, and the pattern is worth walking through carefully.
Editor’s Note: Heaven’s Harvest IS a sponsor, but the warnings of this article are real and would be written even if we didn’t have a survival food sponsor. With that said, those who take advantage of what they offer can use promo code “Patriot” for 15% off.
The Fertilizer Clock Is Already Running
While the Pacific warms, the second shock has been unfolding in the Strait of Hormuz. The conflict with Iran turned the world’s most important energy chokepoint into a contested waterway, and the consequences reach far beyond the gas pump. Roughly a third of global fertilizer trade moves through Hormuz, and the disruption sent urea prices up 86 percent year over year by March, with a 53 percent jump in a single month.
The World Bank projects energy prices rising about 24 percent in 2026 and fertilizer about 31 percent. By its own accounting, fertilizer prices ran 35 percent higher in the first five months of this year than the same period last year.
Here is the mechanism the nightly news will not explain. Fertilizer is not a grocery item. It is a time-delayed input. The nitrogen a farmer in Iowa or Punjab could not afford to apply this spring does not show up as a problem this spring. It shows up as a thinner harvest six to twelve months later.
The World Bank’s own food security brief concedes that the effects of reduced applications earlier this season “are likely to become visible only later in harvest outcomes.” Translate that from institutional language into plain English and it means this. The damage is already done, it is already in the ground, and we are simply waiting for it to arrive on the shelf.
Now check the calendar. Six to twelve months from the spring planting season lands us squarely in late 2026 and early 2027. Which is precisely when the strongest El Niño in the instrumental record is forecast to peak, bringing its signature droughts to Southeast Asia, Australia, southern Africa, northern Brazil, and South Asia, the very regions that grow the world’s rice, sugar, and oilseeds.
The World Bank warns openly that a strong El Niño “could disrupt multiple crop belts simultaneously” on top of the conflict-driven input costs. Their baseline projection assumes the Middle East disruptions ease by autumn. What in the last two years of Middle East history suggests that assumption is safe?
The System Has No Slack Left
The comfortable answer is that global markets always adjust. But adjustment requires slack, and the slack is gone. Global cereal production is expected to decline from last year’s records even before El Niño does its work. The UN World Food Programme, hardly a den of right-wing preppers, is calling this the most significant disruption to its supply chains since Covid and the invasion of Ukraine, and its supply chain director put the stakes bluntly.
Today’s supply chain challenges are tomorrow’s hunger crisis.
There is also a political dimension that markets cannot price. When food gets scarce, governments do not behave like economists. They behave like politicians. Export bans, hoarding mandates, and panic buying at the national level turned the modest rice shortfall of 2008 into a global crisis, and analysts are already warning that import-dependent nations are the first dominoes.
The 2015-16 Super El Niño, a far weaker event than what is now forecast, threw tens of millions into food stress across Africa and Asia. This one is projected to be stronger, and it arrives with fertilizer already rationed by price and shipping lanes already contested by missiles.
What Joseph Knew
Scripture does not treat preparation for lean years as faithlessness. It treats it as wisdom delivered in advance to those willing to act on it.
Behold, there come seven years of great plenty throughout all the land of Egypt: And there shall arise after them seven years of famine; and all the plenty shall be forgotten in the land of Egypt.
Joseph did not respond to that warning with a hashtag or a committee. He stored grain during the years of abundance, and when the famine came, Egypt stood while its neighbors begged. The lesson is not that famine is certain. It is that the time to prepare is precisely when preparation still looks optional.
Nobody who filled a pantry in a year of plenty has ever regretted it, and nobody standing in an empty aisle has ever been glad he waited for certainty.
None of this calls for panic, and panic is the enemy of sound judgment anyway. It calls for the same unglamorous prudence our grandparents considered ordinary. Keep some cash margin, know your local growers, and put real food in deep storage while it is cheap and available, because the entire arc of this story is that cheap and available is a closing window.
Families looking for a straightforward place to start can visit Heaven’s Harvest and use promo code Patriot for 15 percent off long-term storable food. The forecasts may yet soften, the strait may yet reopen, and we should pray they do. But hope is a fine thing to hold and a foolish thing to eat.
