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Rep Jamie Raskin: What Trump did makes Watergate look like “work of Cub Scouts”

Rep. Jamie Raskin said Sunday that more explosive testimony before Congress in the week ahead will help the American public better understand that what former President Donald Trump perpetrated on and before Jan. 6, 2021, was a series of actions and decisions unprecedented in all of American history.

Asked on “Face the Nation” by host Robert Acosta whether the next scheduled hearing on Tuesday would “blow the roof off the house,” something Raskin had previously said, the Democrat from Maryland responded: “Well, not literally, certainly. But I think what I meant is that when you add all of this up together, it is the greatest political offense against the union and by a president of the United States in our history. Nothing comes close to it.”

Raskin, a member of the House select committee investigating the Jan. 6 attack on the U.S. Capitol, is set to lead the Tuesday hearing, which will be the seventh by the committee thus far.

“The attempt to overthrow the result of a presidential election through a political coup, and the mobilization of an armed violent mob, cannot really be compared to anything else a president has done,” said Raskin. “It makes the Watergate break-in look like the work of Cub Scouts.”

On Friday, the Jan. 6 committee received sworn testimony behind closed doors from former White House counsel Pat Cipollone, who held that position before, during and immediately after the Jan. 6 insurrection. According to Politico on Sunday, Rep. Stephanie Murphy, D-Fla., also a member of the committee, said Cipollone — despite claiming attorney-client privilege a number of times throughout the questioning — provided “a lot of relevant information” while under oath.


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“I think there was a lot of information that fit into this bigger puzzle that we’re putting together,” Murphy said.

Speaking with Acosta, Raskin also said Cipollone’s testimony was valuable.

“We’re going to get to use a lot of Mr. Cipollone’s testimony to corroborate other things we’ve learned along the way,” Raskin said. “He was the White House counsel at the time, he was aware of every major move I think that Donald Trump was making to try to overthrow the 2020 election and essentially seize the presidency.”

Watch the full interview:

Read more on the Jan. 6 committee:

Lauren Boebert reported to FBI for tweeting “Terminate this presidency”

Dozens of people reported Rep. Lauren Boebert (R-CO) to the FBI after she included the words “terminate this Presidency” in a message on Twitter.

“We need to terminate this Presidency,” she wrote, adding, “End quote. Repeat the line.”

The “terminate” quote likely referred to remarks made by President Joe Biden last week in which he misspoke while talking about reproductive rights.

“Ten years old and she was forced to travel out of the state to Indiana,” Biden said, “to seek to terminate the presidency and maybe save her life.”

Boebert’s intentions were unclear because she did not correctly quote the president. Many commenters forwarded her tweet to the FBI, the Secret Service and the Justice Department.

Read some of the reports below.

Leaked files indicate Uber exploited violence against drivers

Rideshare behemoth Uber “flouted laws, duped police, exploited violence against drivers and secretly lobbied governments during its aggressive global expansion” according to an explosive report in The Guardian on Sunday.

A trove of more than 124,000 documents and internal communications that were leaked to the publication tells the tale of a years-long pattern of “ethically questionable practices” and outright criminal behavior by the company’s top executives. And this is only the beginning.

The paper “led a global investigation into the leaked Uber files, sharing the data with media organisations around the world via the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists (ICIJ). More than 180 journalists at 40 media outlets including Le Monde, Washington Post and the BBC will in the coming days publish a series of investigative reports about the tech giant,” it explained.

“The leak spans a five-year period when Uber was run by its co-founder Travis Kalanick, who tried to force the cab-hailing service into cities around the world, even if that meant breaching laws and taxi regulations,” The Guardian wrote in its introduction. “During the fierce global backlash, the data shows how Uber tried to shore up support by discreetly courting prime ministers, presidents, billionaires, oligarchs and media barons.”

At its heart, the leak indicates that “Uber was adept at finding unofficial routes to power, applying influence through friends or intermediaries, or seeking out encounters with politicians at which aides and officials were not present,” and “it enlisted the backing of powerful figures in places such as Russia, Italy and Germany by offering them prized financial stakes in the startup and turning them into ‘strategic investors.'”

Uber’s chieftains, the exposé uncovered, “were at the same time under no illusions about the company’s law-breaking, with one executive joking they had become “pirates” and another conceding: ‘We’re just fucking illegal,'” the outlet found. “The cache of files, which span 2013 to 2017, includes more than 83,000 emails, iMessages and WhatsApp messages, including often frank and unvarnished communications between Kalanick and his top team of executives.”

Among the more jarring revelations were the cozy and duplicitous relationships that Uber had with world leaders, including French President Emmanuel Macron “who secretly helped the company in France when he was economy minister, allowing Uber frequent and direct access to him and his staff;” German Chancellor Olaf Scholz who “pushed back against Uber lobbyists and insisted on paying drivers a minimum wage” and whom Uber mocked as “a real comedian;” and then-Vice President Joe Biden, whom Kalanick reprimanded for being late to a meeting at the World Economic Forum.

“Kalanick texted a colleague: ‘I’ve had my people let him know that every minute late he is, is one less minute he will have with me,'” noted The Guardian. “After meeting Kalanick, Biden appears to have amended his prepared speech at Davos to refer to a CEO whose company would give millions of workers ‘freedom to work as many hours as they wish, manage their own lives as they wish.'”

But that was a smokescreen.

“When faced with opposition, Uber sought to turn it to its advantage, seizing upon it to fuel the narrative its technology was disrupting antiquated transport systems, and urging governments to reform their laws,” reported The Guardian. ‘As Uber launched across India, Kalanick’s top executive in Asia urged managers to focus on driving growth, even when ‘fires start to burn.’ ‘Know this is a normal part of Uber’s business,’ he said. ‘Embrace the chaos. It means you’re doing something meaningful.'”

That approach came to a head when Uber encouraged its drivers to participate in taxi strikes, such as those that erupted in Paris, France, in 2016.

Yet the company’s top brass expressed total disregard for the welfare of its contractors.

The Guardian learned that they were “warned that doing so risked putting Uber drivers at risk of attacks from ‘extreme right thugs’ who had infiltrated the taxi protests and were ‘spoiling for a fight,’ Kalanick appeared to urge his team to press ahead regardless. ‘I think it’s worth it,’ he said. ‘Violence guarantee[s] success. And these guys must be resisted, no? Agreed that right place and time must be thought out.'”

Kalanick’s spokesperson denied the account.

The cab rebellions also brought to light that Uber’s ringmasters were keenly aware of and even boastful about their lack of legal status to operate in certain large markets.

“In internal emails, staff referred to Uber’s ‘other than legal status,’ or other forms of active non-compliance with regulations, in countries including Turkey, South Africa, Spain, the Czech Republic, Sweden, France, Germany, and Russia,” the investigation discovered.

“One senior executive wrote in an email: ‘We are not legal in many countries, we should avoid making antagonistic statements.’ Commenting on the tactics the company was prepared to deploy to ‘avoid enforcement,’ another executive wrote: ‘We have officially become pirates,'” The Guardian continued. “Nairi Hourdajian, Uber’s head of global communications, put it even more bluntly in a message to a colleague in 2014, amid efforts to shut the company down in Thailand and India: ‘Sometimes we have problems because, well, we’re just fucking illegal.’ Contacted by The Guardian, Hourdajian declined to comment.”

Uber did, however, attempt to justify its reasoning by citing outdated laws relating to smartphone technologies.

Skirting law enforcement was yet another tactic that Uber employed to evade accountability.

“Uber developed sophisticated methods to thwart law enforcement. One was known internally at Uber as a ‘kill switch.’ When an Uber office was raided, executives at the company frantically sent out instructions to IT staff to cut off access to the company’s main data systems, preventing authorities from gathering evidence,” The Guardian wrote. “The leaked files suggest the technique, signed off by Uber’s lawyers, was deployed at least 12 times during raids in France, the Netherlands, Belgium, India, Hungary and Romania.”

Here again, Kalanick’s spokesperson issued a denial, saying that the “kill switch” was never meant to thwart law enforcement or “legitimate regulatory action.”

Ed Harris suggests that “Westworld” will end with Season 5

“Westworld” is back, and in general the critical consensus seems to be that Season 4 is the best outing for the show in a while. “Westworld made a big splash when it debuted on HBO in 2016, fascinating people with a look into the not-too-distant future when androids have advanced to the point where they’re ready to fight back against their human oppressors. The show waffled in quality over the last couple of seasons, so it’s good to see it returning to its roots.

For instance, Ed Harris is back playing William. But this isn’t the introspective William we saw in Season 3. The Man in Black is back, terrorizing people at the behest of Charlotte, who has some heretofore-unknown master plan to replace people with robotic hosts.

Of course, this being “Westworld,” that’s not the whole story. The new Man in Black is actually a host version of William controlled by Charlotte, while the genuine article slumbers in cryosleep. But as we know, the hosts on this show aren’t always as easily controlled as their creators hope. “She’s programmed him to the extent that he’s really doing it in her bidding, but hopefully in the course of the season, as the other hosts have done, he’ll start growing within, getting a little more consciousness of his own being and expanding his horizons a little bit,” Ed Harris told The Hollywood Reporter. “Things start changing a bit later in the season.”

The Man in Black may not follow Charlotte’s orders for long in “Westworld” Season 4

Naturally, Harris has his own hopes for how William’s arc will end. “I wouldn’t mind if he, the actual human William, got out of the cryo machine and corrected some situations that he’s responsible for,” the actor said. “I don’t know if that’s going to happen. I certainly have not been told, but I’m not sure if he’s got much chance of surviving. I don’t know if he’s ever going to get back to being that man [played by Jimmi Simpson]. I’m hoping that some aspect of who he was when he was younger comes back, but I really don’t know if it will.”

We have one more season, which will start filming next April and May. I have no idea where that’s going to end up.

That last bit is important, because it’s been unclear how much longer “Westworld” would continue. One more season? Two more? Or is Season 4 the last one? It sounds like the show has one more go-round planned.

New episodes of “Westworld” Season 4 air on HBO on Sundays.

20 super facts about the MCU’s “Avengers” movies

The end-credits scene in Jon Favreau’s “Iron Man” (2008) established a now-beloved tradition in the MCU universe, while making a promise to both comic book fans and everyone who loved the first true MCU movie that there would be much more to come from the tin-can-suited Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.). Yet instead of simply hinting that Stark would be back for a new adventure, it promised that the entire Avengers team from the comic books would assemble.

At the time, it was a pretty groundbreaking move. Up until that point, the movie world had never seen an epic, superhero team-up movie where heroes introduced in their own hugely successful movies would band together to fight as one.

It’s been 10 years since “The Avengers” first arrived in theaters on May 4, 2012 and changed the game. Here are 20 facts about the original film and the Spandexed movies that followed. 

1. Robert Downey Jr. hid food all over the set.

Since Robert Downey Jr.’s role is so demanding, the Iron Man actor doesn’t have time for quick snack breaks — so he just eats onscreen. Downey reportedly hides snacks everywhere, which is why Stark is often munching on something when he delivers his biting quips. This is true not just of all the “Avengers” movies, but anywhere else Stark shows up.

2. Chris Evans sent everyone a text that read “Assemble” so they could go out drinking.

The main actors in the “Avengers” movies weren’t together all that often. So on the rare occasions when they were in town to shoot together, Chris Evans would send up a Bat-Signal (sorry) for them to go party. The simple text saying “Assemble” is one of Clark Gregg’s personal favorites.

3. Captain America isn’t eating shawarma because of an uncomfortable prosthetic.

The end credits for “The Avengers” broke the mold by featuring a pair of scenes. The first promises the arrival of Thanos as a major villain directly involved in aggressions against Earth, and the second shows the battle-worn Avengers making good on a throwaway joke about eating shawarma. This second scene wasn’t part of the original script, and wasn’t even shot until the day after the movie had its Los Angeles premiere on April 11, 2012, when the actors were in the middle of their media blitz.

Because of the timing, continuity became a problem for Evans, whose Captain America is the only one not eating in the scene. Instead, his hand is covering his face in seeming exhaustion. The real reason we don’t get a good look at Evans is because he had grown a beard for Bong Joon-ho’s “Snowpiercer” (2013), and the prosthetic they had to cover it up didn’t look real enough for him to chow down.

4. They got Hulk to smash Loki with a rope and a surprise.

One of the most memorable moments in “The Avengers” is when Hulk (Mark Ruffalo) answers Loki’s (Tom Hiddleston) erudite taunts by slamming him like a rag doll. They pulled it off with a rope, several stunt actors, and by not telling Hiddleston exactly when they’d tug the wire. “The experience of being yanked out of frame was one I will not forget in a hurry,” Hiddleston told Entertainment Weekly.

5. Mark Ruffalo was almost The Hulk before he was The Hulk.

Ruffalo took over the role of Bruce Banner/The Hulk from Edward Norton after Norton starred in 2008’s “The Incredible Hulk.” But Ruffalo was actually director Louis Letterier’s first choice for the character; Marvel wanted Norton because he was more famous at the time.

6. Stan Lee’s cameo in “Avengers: Age of Ultron” is a nod to his military service.

Lee’s last cameo was in “Avengers: Endgame” as a hippie shouting “Make love, not war!” But his appearance in “Age of Ultron” is as a WWII veteran who claims to have fought at Omaha Beach. In real life, Lee didn’t storm Omaha Beach, but he did enlist in the Army in 1942 and went on to work in conjunction with Dr. Seuss in the training film division.

7. Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver’s origins changed because of a rights issue.

In the comic books, Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver aid Magneto in his villainy, but with the X-Men split off from other Marvel entities due to movie studios rights, the production team behind “Age of Ultron” gave Wanda and Pietro Maximoff a different origin story. With no Magneto in the universe, the twins are test subjects for Hydra’s Baron Wolfgang von Strucker.

8. Elizabeth Olsen described Scarlet Witch the same way James Spader described Ultron.

To illustrate how morally complex Scarlet Witch is as a hero, Olsen spoke of her in the same way James Spader spoke of the A.I. villain of the film. “She has such a vast amount of knowledge, that she’s unable to learn how to control it,” Olsen said. “No one taught her how to control it properly, so it gets the best of her. It’s not that she’s mentally insane, it’s just that she’s overly stimulated, and she can connect to this world, and parallel worlds, at the same time.”

Paralleling that naive energy, Spader said of Ultron, “He sees the world from a very strange, Biblical point of view, because he’s brand-new, he’s very young. He’s immature, and yet has knowledge of comprehensive, broad history and precedent, and he has created in a very short period a rather skewed worldview.”

9. Small-town theaters in Germany boycotted “Age of Ultron.”

It wasn’t because they disagreed with the portrayal of murderous A.I. robots. It was a matter of Disney wanting 53 percent of the box office take on all ticket sales versus the traditional 47.7 percent. While it might not seem like a huge difference in numbers, it could have meant the difference between turning a profit for some of Germany’s smaller theaters, so they simply refused to play it. Disney also reduced the amount of money it agreed to contribute toward advertising and 3D glasses.

10. “Age of Ultron” has a sly reference to Archie Comics.

Iron Man has to fight Hulk in “Age of Ultron,” using a series of safety protocols he has named “Veronica.” It’s an incredibly sly reference to Archie Comics: As the love of Bruce Banner’s life was named Betty Ross, “Age of Ultron” writer/director Joss Whedon thought it would be fun to add a Veronica into the mix because “Veronica is the opposite of [Betty].”

11. A focus group member got a line into “Avengers: Infinity War.”

Get this person a screen credit! This is extremely rare, but apparently a person in one of the focus groups for “Infinity War” referred to the Outriders as “Space Dogs.” Directors Anthony and Joe Russo liked it so much, they gave the line to Bradley Cooper to voice as Rocket Raccoon. 

12. Captain America’s “Infinity War” look is a nod to his time as The Nomad.

There were times in the comic books when Captain America wasn’t Captain America. His first turn as The Nomad came when he lost faith in the United States following the Watergate scandal, and his costume in “Infinity War” is meant to reflect the same costume he wore as that character back in the 1970s. 

13. “Arrested Development’s” Dr. Tobias Fünke has a cameo in “Infinity War.”

We were so, so, so close to seeing David Cross as Tobias Fünke in the MCU. The Russos got their start in television, including directing a number of episodes of “Arrested Development,” and they wanted Cross to show up as a mustachioed, shirtless, blue guy. Unfortunately, Cross had scheduling conflicts, but the directors still managed to put a look-alike as tribute in one of the scenes.

14. Evangeline Lilly and Paul Rudd shot “Endgame” and “Ant-Man and the Wasp” at the same time.

It wasn’t easy on anyone. Marvel’s release schedule is so bloated that they have to film multiple projects at the same time, which also means maintaining a sense of continuity between all the films while juggling dozens of characters and multiple storylines. During “Ant-Man and the Wasp,” Evangeline Lilly and Paul Rudd would frequently be pulled away to shoot scenes for “Endgame.” “Ant-Man” director Peyton Reed said the process caused him some headaches, but that the Avengers-focused film ultimately found ways to ensure Rudd and Lilly were available to, you know, star in the movie they were starring in.

15. “Endgame” is the only time Robert Redford has played the same character twice.

Robert Redford has never played the same role twice, but Marvel somehow managed to both coax him out of retirement and get him to reprise his role as HYDRA leader Alexander Pierce, who he first played in “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” (2014). Other than a very brief appearance as the voice of a dolphin monster in the collage film “Omniboat” as a favor to his grandson, 2019’s “Endgame” is Redford’s last film appearance. 

16. Tom Holland was not allowed to read the “Endgame” script.

During his earliest days in the MCU, Holland earned a reputation as someone who happily gave away spoilers during interviews — like the time he spoiled the ending to “Infinity War to a packed theater. So the filmmakers decided the best way to keep the plot lines to “Endgame” as quiet as possible was to forbid the Spider-Man actor from reading the script. “Tom Holland gets his lines and that’s it,” Joe Russo explained in 2019. “He doesn’t even know who he’s acting opposite of . . . We use very vague terms to describe to him what is happening in the scene, because he has a very difficult time keeping his mouth shut.” Holland has joked that they wouldn’t even tell him who he was fighting against, so he just punched the air for 15 minutes.

When the cast promoted “Endgame” around the world, Holland was very intentionally paired with Benedict Cumberbatch, who was asked to “babysit” Holland and ensure that he didn’t reveal any spoilers (as you can watch above).

17. “Endgame” is the first movie to reach $1 billion at the box office in its first weekend.

Following the promise of “Avengers,” and the fantastical expansion of a filming style thought impossible back in 2012, “Endgame” closed the chapter on several of the founding members of the superhero team while racking up $1 billion faster than any movie had ever done before it. After just five days in theaters, “Endgame” had earned $1.2 billion. Today, “Endgame” sits just behind James Cameron’s “Avatar” as the second highest-grossing movie of all time.

18. “Groot” is a learnable language.

If you’ve only seen “Guardians of the Galaxy,” it’s possible that Groot only saying “Groot” is merely a gag, and Rocket is pretending to understand as much as is possible. In “Infinity War,” Thor jokes that he took “Groot” in college, but it’s also clear that he understands the sentient plant, meaning that the language comprised solely of one word is indeed a language and is learnable

19. A classic “Star Trek: The Next Generation” episode inspired “Endgame.”

The final episode of “Star Trek: The Next Generation” involves Captain Picard (Patrick Stewart) split between multiple timelines that all lead to a mysterious signal out in space. “All Good Things” gave the crew a solid send-off, and it also inspired Marvel head Kevin Feige. Instead of digging into the thorny particulars of time travel, the Avengers joke their way through the adventure, leaning heavily on the nostalgia of moving through the older films so that everything still lines up.

20. The writers thought time travel was the stupidest idea possible for “Endgame.”

It’s not just you. Even the writers of “Endgame” thought the time travel element was profoundly silly. Co-writer Christopher Markus said that the scene were the Avengers contemplate the ridiculousness of a time heist “mirrors us sitting in a room trying to figure out how the hell to get out of the corner we wrote ourselves in at the end of ‘Infinity War’ and entertaining the idea of a time machine and then feeling that it’s the stupidest idea you could possibly have.”

The writers may have thought it was stupid, but audiences loved it. Plus, it offered a clever way of honoring the previous films and reminding audiences just how massive the scope of the Marvel Cinematic Universe really is.

Is it an abortion or a D&C? Medically speaking, “the steps are the same”

If you went to the drug store and the pharmacist wouldn’t let you have ibuprofen because he thinks there’s a chance your headache is from a hangover and not from reading in dim light, you’d probably be furious. Someone else’s value judgments about what they think is happening inside your body determining your medical treatment — or the deciding factor in whether you get treatment at all? Unconscionable. This is not a rhetorical scenario. There are signs that is already happening around pregnancy termination in the wake of the overturning of Roe v. Wade. A country where in numerous places restrictions on voluntary abortion mean you can’t get a D&C or a prescription to manage a miscarriage? It’s basically the same story.

Opponents of reproductive choice argue that despite the wave of abortion bans going into effect around the country, pregnant people will still be protected in life threatening situations — they will still, as Oklahoma law puts it, be allowed to be treated with interventions to remove a “dead unborn child caused by spontaneous abortion.” And yet with doctors and pharmacists spooked by the fear of lawsuits or even criminal penalties, there is good reason to fear that will not necessarily be true for everyone.

“Medical providers who treat pregnancy-related issues in red states exist in a constant state of fear of performing any procedure that can be classified as an abortion—even while the procedures remain legal,” wrote Dr. Leah Torres, an OB-GYN in Alabama, in a Slate essay published in May after the draft Supreme Court ruling leaked. Torres described treating patients who were miscarrying and who had been made to wait for standard medical treatment such as a D&C, and one whose physician “was denied the ability to perform the D&C” by the hospital after the patient went into sepsis following an incomplete medication abortion. In Texas, a law restricting the use of “abortion inducing drugs” has led to hesitancy to provide miscarriage care, an NPR report finds. “The challenge is that the treatment for an abortion and the treatment for a miscarriage are exactly the same,” Dr. Sarah Prager told NPR. 

In the health care world, different terminologies — “abortion” or “D&C,” “medication abortion” or “abortion pills” — can essentially describe the same procedures, processes or prescriptions. There are many reasons a pregnant person might need medical intervention to remove the contents of the uterus, from a desired abortion to finding out the fetus isn’t viable. And the same pills are prescribed and the same surgical procedures are performed to manage miscarriages and elective abortions. 

“It’s a medical procedure. It is not a value judgment.”

“The word ‘abortion’ got taken away from medical nomenclature, which is what it is,” Dr. Suzanne Gilberg-Lenz, a Beverly Hills OB-GYN and the author of “Menopause Bootcamp,” told me in a recent interview. “It’s a medical procedure. It is not a value judgment. When patients see insurance coding, for instance, for ‘incomplete abortion, missed abortion,’ these are miscarriages. That’s the medical term: Abortion. Abortion. Because abortion is not about how you feel about it. Kind of like getting your tonsils out is not about your feelings.”

One method of managing pregnancy termination is through a surgical procedure called a D&C — dilation and curettage. Dr. Katharine White, an associate professor of OB-GYN at the Boston University School of Medicine and gynecologist specializing in miscarriage care, explained how it works.

“First, the cervix is opened by stretching the natural opening (dilation) with a series of dilators,” she said. “Then the provider (usually a doctor) removes the pregnancy tissue using suction, either [with] a hand-operated device or an electric vacuum (curettage). Traditionally, a curettage is performed by scraping the lining of the uterus, but most doctors now use a vacuum to remove pregnancy tissue, and the procedure is called a suction curettage or simply aspiration.”

“While the name D&C isn’t exactly medically accurate anymore, it’s how most people still refer to this surgery,” she added.

And, White explained, “technically, the steps are the same” for treating a first-trimester miscarriage and a first-trimester abortion, though “there may be a higher risk of heavy bleeding with the miscarriage procedure.”

“It’s the same thing,” Gilberg-Lenz affirmed. 

Another way of medically assisting the end of a pregnancy is through medication, typically with mifepristone and misoprostol.

“We use that medication for a lot of different things,” said Gilberg-Lenz. “We could use it to expel the contents in an elective termination of pregnancy. It could be used because you had a postpartum hemorrhage and you come in to see me and you’re still bleeding because it turns out you got a little bit of clot in there. Or maybe we think you have some placenta. I use it all the time, most of us do, to prep for any surgery where I’m going to need to go into the cervix. This is just a medication we use because, you know, we’re doctors.”

On social media, stories are emerging that indicate fears, judgments or assumptions around the procedures and medications associated with pregnancy termination are beginning to affect miscarriage patient care, too. On one such Reddit thread, a poster wrote that a Missouri pharmacist refused to dispense misoprostol prescription for her recent miscarriage. It’s a similar story to the 2018 Michigan pharmacist who refused to dispense the same medication to a patient (in that case, specifically because of his religious beliefs). Another Reddit poster asked for help on a miscarriage forum: “I’ve talked to the doctors about it but they won’t give me miso or a d&c.”

Someone who understands these processes very well is Laura Fletcher. The founder & CEO of Selah Fertility and author of the upcoming memoir, “The Grace of Grief: Healing and Hope After Miscarriage,” Fletcher experienced four miscarriages between the births of her two children.

“Carelessly written laws sweep up so many people who were not intended to be affected by them.”

“The first miscarriage didn’t require any medical management,” she recalled. “I didn’t need to take any medications. I didn’t need to have any surgery. The next three miscarriages all required medical intervention, whether that was a medical abortion, or a surgical abortion, more commonly known in the fertility world as a D & C.”

Fletcher also pointed out the “misconception” that a D & C is not an abortion.

“They are the same procedure,” she said. “I had a scenario in which medical abortion via medication failed and I had to be rushed in for a secondary emergency medical abortion.”

Without it, she said, “I absolutely would have died.”

Fletcher now is passionate about making people understand that without access to abortion, women will die.

“A lot of women will die, women that are already in a very traumatized state,” she said. “Women that are having a miscarriage or an ectopic pregnancy, without access to either medical or surgical abortion, or occasionally both, will die.”


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When people who aren’t doctors — like Supreme Court justices or Catholic bishops — are dictating medical policy, people like Fletcher, who woke up in the middle of one terrible night in a pool of her own blood, are the ones who get hurt.

“People think there’s two categories — pregnancies you want and pregnancies you don’t,” said White. “The reality of people’s lives is that it’s not that simple. Even very desired pregnancies can run into complications, where an abortion is the best thing for the health of the person who is pregnant, or where it becomes a nonviable pregnancy loss but because there’s still the presence of a fetal heartbeat, the doctors hands are tied. That’s why carelessly written laws sweep up so many people who were not intended to be affected by them.”

“I want people to really understand,” she said emphatically, “that it is not ‘those women over there having abortions’ and the rest of us. They are not separate buckets. You cannot separate out abortion care from the rest of pregnancy care.”

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What the heck is a “napron”? The linguistic history of the kitchen’s most stylish accessory

For whatever reason, I’ve never been an apron wearer. For many — primarily bakers, bread makers and pastry chefs — an apron is a necessity, a sure guard against errant splashes, stains and unpredictable messes that have the potential to assail your clothing. It’s a prerequisite to secure prior to engaging in a culinary exercise in the kitchen. For those people, an apron is a non-negotiable. For me, it’s an elective, and one that I opt to ignore. (I received an apron for Christmas a few years back, wore it that day whilst making Christmas dinner and promptly never used it again.)

A few summers ago, a former colleague shared a fun etymological fact with me, thinking that I’d appreciate it as a grammarhead (a term I think I just coined) and cooking aficionado. He was right — I did appreciate it.

He told me that once upon a time, the apron was conceived in order to ensure that common kitchen detritus wasn’t strewn haphazardly on expensive clothing and accessories. In addition, he said, fascinatingly enough, that the original nomenclature was actually “napron.” 

As time went on and people casually referred to “a napron,” the terminology skewed, the spacing shifted and the pronunciation changed, along with the word itself. The “n” detached itself from the “-apron” and instead joined up with the indefinite article “a” — resulting in what we now call “an apron” today. The rest is history.

It was definitely a fun bit of trivia, but years later I found myself asking if the tale was . . . real? Or if it was a fabricated little story that evokes a cool “neat” and a slight smirk? I looked into the history of the word to find out. 

According to the historic picture and photograph archive Look and Learn, “in old English, the words orange, adder, and apron all began with the letter n, and so were spelt narenge, nadder, and napron.” Napron hails from the French word naperon, which is an iteration of “nappe,” or “a little cloth.” This word is also the root of nap-kin, which also means “little cloth.” 

As grammar and phonics shifted through time, words that originally began with “n” were modified and adjusted. Eventually, they lost their “n” and whatever the second letter was — which in 99% of cases was a vowel — became the first. This phenomenon, according to the linguistic dataset and translation producer E2F, is called faulty separation, wrong division, redivision or rebracketing. Meanwhile, Merriam-Webster calls it false division or mis-division. (There’s something meta about the fact that this etymological device goes by a slew of different names.)

It doesn’t always apply to words that start with “n” with a second-letter vowel. It can also extend to any word that is modified in some manner over time, such as ham-burger, which was once hamburg-er. However, at a certain point, these words in their new form are — at least for a period of time — cemented in our everyday language. As Mental Floss notes, by the 1600s, the “n” had been effectively and widely dropped, resulting in what we still today deem “an apron.”

No matter the nomenclature, an apron can be a widely used piece of kitchen apparel. Maybe wear one next time you make my classic (though impossibly crispy) chicken parm? Or perhaps you could don one before making an entire Italian-themed feast? Use it to avoid splatters from delicious sauces like salmoriglio or just plain red sauce. Guard your clothing while making my signature tetrazzini. And it’s a must when tackling chicken with creamy tomato gravy

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The delicious, diverse world of spirits from the African continent

Herbaceous, smoky, vegetal, spicy, citrusy. Have a sip of Pedro’s, a Nigerian ogogoro, and you’ll smell and taste each of these flavors on your palate. If you try Aphro, a Ghanaian akpeteshie, you’ll taste pineapple and passion fruit. Vusa, a South African vodka, is smooth, creamy, and just a touch sweet.

These are the flavors that Daniel Idowu, director of Value Africa, is bringing to the UK, along with something even more important — the stories behind these flavors.

Africans have been making alcoholic beverages as far back as the historical record goes; palm-wine in West Africa, banana beer in the Great Lakes region, mead in Ethiopia, and maize beer in southern Africa.

For Idowu, a British Nigerian, African spirits aren’t just about expanding cocktail culture — they’re showing a new side of the African continent, one that connects large cities where distilleries are to the vast countryside where farmers harvest the plants that go into these spirits to the rest of the Western world where there is little to no knowledge of what African spirits even are.

Idowu has been sourcing spirits from Nigeria, Kenya, Ghana, and South Africa for the past 3-4 years. In 2020 alone, he spent over five months in Africa, visiting the entire supply chain to learn first how each spirit is made and what makes it special. He visited not only the distilleries in large cities but the farmers in the countryside who are growing and harvesting the palm tree. He heard from locals how they like to drink the spirit as part of their lifestyle. “I have the most fun in the field looking at where the raw ingredients come from and how the products are distilled,” Idowu says. “You’ve got 70-year-olds who climb trees to tap the palm tree. They have so much experience and energy.”

In cities like Lagos, Nigeria, Idowu connects with food and hospitality folks about how they use and sell these spirits. “There are some great bars and mixologists coming up with novel and new products,” he notes. For example, bartenders will mix Nigerian ogogoro with coconut water or zoba, a drink made from hibiscus petals. At Chishuru, a West African restaurant in London, it’s mixed with black tea for warmth and elderflower for a floral sweetness.

While Idowu began his work with Value Africa in 2019, his relationship with African spirits dates much further back.

“I’d always make sure to select a local beer when I was traveling,” he remembers. “And after a while, I started upgrading to collecting spirits as a way to take a piece of the country home.”

When visiting friends and family in Nigeria and traveling across Africa, Idowu discovered that it was difficult to find spirits that he could bring home to share with others. To date, the alcohol industry in Africa is dominated by beer — four brewers command 90% of the market, which means more regulation around manufacturing, distributing, and exporting. The spirits market, on the other hand, is much more fragmented. Distillers don’t have a standardized way of producing spirits, so drinking watered down, or adulterated spirits, is known to happen. Idowu claims that there have even been cases of toxic batches made by local producers.

Export rules also differ by country, some of which changed even more during the pandemic. In the last two years, South Africa imposed a ban on alcohol sales three times in hopes to curb the spread of coronavirus by dissuading parties and social gatherings. Navigating these fluid rules can be frustrating, but Idowu enjoys the challenge.

Ogogoro is one of Value Africa’s most popular spirits due to Idowu’s strong relationship with Pedro’s distillery. It’s a distinct Nigerian spirit that’s been drunk for generations across social classes due to its use in traditional ceremonies like offering blessings at a wedding, as well as casual libations. While ogogoro production methods vary across tribes and regions, the base is the same — palm sap.

To make ogogoro, the oil palm or raffia palm tree needs to be tapped for its sap which is left to naturally ferment and then distilled. Pedro’s sources their sap from wild palm trees using low intervention techniques that don’t require palm plantations, and double distills their ogogoro. After maturing it for sixty days, they bottle it. Each of these extra steps ensures quality and, moreover, prepares Pedro’s to export overseas.

Because these spirits are made with indigenous plants and varied distilling methods, they don’t always fall into Western categories of gin or vodka — and for Idowu, that’s a good thing, because importing African spirits is more than a business.

“I’ve found that there is a world of amazing African spirits with indigenous products,” he says. These spirits showcase the differences between African countries and spotlight local ingredients and methods that go into creating them, telling a deeper story of regionality and countering Western tendencies to view Africa as one place.

In a market dominated by spirits from North America, Asia, and Europe, Idowu’s efforts expand Western palates and illustrate that there is still so much to learn about the African culinary landscape.

This 6-ingredient maple ice cream belongs in your summer dessert rotation

This easy maple ice cream has only 6 ingredients, including full spectrum hemp extract which has an earthy flavor that elevates the richness of dark maple syrup. Coarse sea salt helps balance the sweetness in this simple recipe from Tracey Medeiros’ “The Art of Cooking with Cannabis: CBD and THC-Infused Recipes from Across America.” 

If you’re looking for other sweet cannabis-infused treats to try this summer, consider Tracey’s sweet corn ice cream with wild blueberries and a brown sugar crumble, or her s’more brownies.

Mass Maple Ice Cream
Yields
1 quart
Prep Time
0 minutes
Cook Time
30 minutes, plus freezing

Ingredients

3 cups (14% milk fat) heavy cream, cold
1 cup whole milk
1 cup grade B dark maple syrup
1 teaspoon coarse sea salt
6 large free-range egg yolks, reserving the egg whites for another use
1 ounce full-spectrum hemp extract, preferably Luce Farm Wellness

 

Directions

  1. To make the ice cream base: In a 2-quart heavy-bottomed saucepan, bring the heavy cream, milk, maple syrup, and salt just to the boiling point, whisking occasionally, over medium heat, about 18 to 20 minutes.
  2. At the same time, in a separate bowl, whisk together the egg yolks until light and frothy.
  3. Whisking continuously, add the hot cream mixture to the egg yolks, in a slow and steady stream. Return the mixture back to the saucepan and cook over medium-low heat, whisking constantly until the mixture thickens and coats the back of a wooden spoon, about 5 minutes. Note: Do not allow the ice cream base to boil.
  4. Immediately remove the custard from the heat and pour through a fine-mesh strainer into a large shallow pan. The wide base and shallow sides of the pan allow the ice cream base to cool more quickly. Cover with plastic wrap, pressing directly onto the surface of the mixture, and refrigerate overnight.
  5. Add the full-spectrum hemp extract and whisk the ice cream base until well combined. Pour into a cold ice cream maker bowl, filling the machine no more than three-quarters of the way, and process according to the manufacturer’s instruction.

Cook’s Notes

NOTE: Since the custard is thick, it will take a while to pass it through the sieve. 

TIP: If your custard breaks, whisk the custard in the sieve, so that the clumps dissolve and relax into the custard as the material passes through the sieve.
 

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“The Anarchists” is HBO’s chaotic examination of an attempted crypto-bro utopia in Acapulco

Rich people ruin everything. Especially rebellion. None of us needs HBO’s “The Anarchists” to deliver that revelation; we’re living the truth of that. In that respect, Todd Schramke’s documentary series should feel timely.

For those seeking an understanding of the anarchist movement, which requires ignoring the definition espoused by Fox News, Schramke’s examination provides clarity without necessarily landing on a single crystallized answer. But if you’re looking for a tingly stranger-than-fiction-TV bump, beware. Jumping into this story is akin to snorting a rail only to discover too late that your fun has been cut with itching powder. And once that stuff settles into your membranes, boy howdy is it impossible to rinse out.

“The Anarchists” looks like perfect feel-weird documentary obsession material, grant you. It may not be expressly about a crazy cult or an extraordinary fraudster, but you’ll recognize shades of each in Jeff Berwick. Granted, Berwick lacks the dangerous forcefulness of, say, a Ma Anand Sheela, and he’s not even close to qualifying as a con artist on par with Fyre Festival CEO Billy McFarland.

RELATED: Libertarians’ scary new star: Meet Bryan Caplan, the right’s next “great” philosopher

What Berwick offered was real: a bootstrapped gathering that quickly exploded into a destination for wealthy counterculture tourists dabbling in cryptocurrency, including members of the Wu-Tang Clan and former congressman Ron Paul.

Jumping into this story is akin to snorting a rail only to discover too late that your fun has been cut with itching powder.

The slick Canadian liberty-bro describes himself on one of his websites as an anarcho-capitalist, Libertarian, and “freedom fighter against mankind’s two biggest enemies, the State and the Central Banks.” He presents himself as an amiable “ideas” guy, one of the dozens who pop up on our screens and social media feeds with promises of a life worth emulating.

Schramke follows a subset of self-proclaimed anarchists who answered Berwick’s call beckoning them to Acapulco, Mexico, and Anarchapulco, a “freedom conference” he founded in 2015. Conceptualized as a retreat designed to bring the anarchists’ community together and explore the philosophy’s practice in the real world, it quickly ended up becoming a cryptocurrency sales-a-thon abuzz with catchphrases like, “the liberty space.”

But the core values of anarchy found purchase among a few like-minded souls who gravitated to Mexico seeking community. Others only encountered disillusionment, violence, and death, whether as the result of tumbling into the destructive side of a lifestyle that fed their baser impulses, or falling prey to local drug cartels. It doesn’t help that Anarchapulco welcomed in a few figures who interpreted anarchy to mean lawlessness, giving them a green light to play out their most dangerous impulses.

Berwick’s image doesn’t benefit from this aggressive mainstreaming of kookiness; indeed, he’s such an ordinary snake oil salesman that his presence quickly degenerates from linchpin to irritant. It’s plain to see from the first episode that he’ll be the last man standing once everything implodes; he has the generic look of a one-percenter sporting too much hair product, the kind of guy who definitely should not star in a rap video. (Consider that a warning. And be sure to have a pillow nearby to contain your screams.)

In the documentary series, he presents himself as your average millionaire entrepreneur who finds enlightenment by way of an anti-U.S. Reserve conspiracy theory manual. Digesting its teachings and other anti-central banking texts as he boned his way the world on “a 100-country party,” he was drawn to Acapulco’s reputation for lawlessness.

He settled down there, married an Acapulco native named Kena (who is seen, but not heard), and relaunched as a champion of true freedom, founding a conference in 2015 called Anarchapulco.

The AnarchistsAcapulco, Mexico – “The Anarchists” (Courtesy of HBO)

“The Anarchists” eventually arranges itself around three major narratives related to Berwick and this event, but before the series finds itself we’re introduced to a host of characters gathering around Berwick, a few of whom genuinely believe in anarchy and live its principles. One of the earliest testimonials from Erika Harris, a Black woman fed up with the nine-to-five grind genuinely seeking out a different way to live, makes a persuasive argument that living in some version of a self-governed bliss is possible.

Harris seems genuinely at ease, like she’s figured everything out, and maintains that aura of lightness each time we see her.

But she’s treated more as a balancing device than an individual with a broader story to tell. That may be because she’s one of the few “average,” stable people who remain part of whatever anarchist community still exists in Berwick’s orbit. She seems like a fine person to spend time with. That doesn’t necessarily make her the right character type for a work like this.

Nathan Freeman and his wife Lisa fit that bill. The couple abandoned the United States to live as anarchists in Mexico for the sake of their children, along with Lily Forester and John Galton the assumed names of a young anarchist couple to flee to Anarchapulco to escape drug charges related to cannabis possession.

If you recognize John Galton’s name, that could be because you either read the sacred conservative text from which it is derived, or any of the 2019 international headlines about an American fugitive’s murder in Mexico. All documentary series of this stripe involve some type of crime surrounded by questions about culpability.

The fact that Schramke got to know the couple and filmed them before their shocking tragedy enables the surviving parties to clear up a few misconceptions about what occurred. Some of it smacks of shameless victim-blaming to protect the Anarchapulco brand, which is what it essentially became by its third and fourth years.

Untangling and organizing these narratives requires a certain amount of discipline even before one factors in cryptocurrency’s outsized role in this story.

The Anarchists”… reveals that the dividing line between utopia and hell [is] effectively the same as the one opening splitting democracies around the globe.

But Schramke’s ability to wrangle all of these narratives into a coherent form proves to be sporadic and limited at best. This may be a product of the filmmaker’s closeness to this ragtag, densely populated community over six years; a few supposedly central players pop up in archival footage or are mentioned in stories without anyone explaining why mentioning them is necessary.

Perhaps his stylistic aim is to capture the chaos of the period he chronicled, but such choices contribute to the flabbiness obscuring the key lessons in this cautionary story, beginning with the community’s failure to agree on a single definition of anarchy.

Near the start of the series Schramke shares its definition as “the organization of society on the basis of voluntary cooperation, without political institutions or hierarchical government.”

Berwick declares that Anarchapulco has no leader while positioning himself as the area’s liege lord. The Freemans play the administrative support to his vision, to a point. Forester and Galton view it as an extension of agorism, which she boils down to “avoid paying taxes and live off your skills.” The common theme of “taxation is fraud” is pretty much the only part of the concept with which all are on board. Everything else is fungible.

Forester and Galton become the soul of this community and this series, and their extensively explored stories are the best aspects of later episodes, in which the filmmaker inserts himself into the action more frequently. Through Forester, especially, we gain a greater understanding of how the system fails trauma survivors and why a supposedly stateless way of being would appeal to someone like her.

Meanwhile her friend Jason Henza experience demonstrates why such communities often prove to be mirages.


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When “The Anarchists” finds some semblance of rhythm, it reveals that the dividing line between utopia and hell was effectively the same as the one opening splitting democracies around the globe – that is, everything falls apart once the haves turn their backs on the have-nots.

A few years ago “The Anarchists” may have seemed more engrossing than it does now when the hokum spewed on Anarchapulco’s stage gets heavy play on Fox News and others in the far-right ecosystem. That doesn’t mean our society is leaning more towards anarchy but, instead, indicates how normalized conspiracy theories are.

But whatever draw it might muster comes down to something far more basic, explained in the words of Juan Galt (yup, no relation): the anarchy dream crashes against the reality of human conflict, and drama and s**t hitting the fan. When that last part goes down, you can count on the Berwicks of the world to follow their actual truth. “As bad as the world is,” he concludes, “you can kinda just ignore it, really, and work on yourself.”

“The Anarchists” premieres at Sunday, July 10 at 10 p.m. on HBO. Watch a trailer via YouTube.

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What overturning Roe v. Wade means for pregnant people in pollution hotspots

For many pregnant people in Baytown, Texas, there aren’t a whole lot of options. That’s not just in terms of seeking services for reproductive health like abortion care, although there is certainly a dearth of local providers for that particular need. But the town, which sits on the eastern edge of Harris County, abutting the Houston Ship Channel and the San Jacinto River, is a known pollution hotspot. Keeping yourself and a developing fetus safe from toxic exposures can be a real challenge — and it’s just one example of how environmental and reproductive justice issues collide in “fenceline” communities.

Baytown’s legacy of pollution largely comes back to its high concentration of chemical facilities, including an ExxonMobil refinery that routinely spews hazardous chemicals and most recently caught fire in 2021. A notoriously leaky Superfund site that sits in the middle of the San Jacinto River contaminates the water and seafood in the area. 

Petrochemical facilities in Harris County routinely emit “chemicals like benzene, toluene, and xylene that cause developmental and reproductive issues in human bodies,” said Nalleli Hidalgo, a community outreach and education liaison at the Texas Environmental Justice Advocacy Services, a Houston-based nonprofit.

While exposure to harmful chemicals isn’t good for anyone, pregnant people and children are especially vulnerable. Because children’s bodies are smaller and still developing, they can become sick faster and at lower levels of exposure. Similarly, pregnant people experience physical and hormonal changes that make them particularly sensitive to pollution. Research shows that those who live close to pollution — whether that’s from oil and gas fields or traffic on roads and highways — suffer worse maternal health outcomes compared to those further away, with higher likelihoods of developing hypertension, having low birth weight babies, and giving birth early. And of course, pregnancy itself can be dangerous without proper care – conditions like preeclampsia and maternal hemorrhage can potentially result in disability or death.

In parts of Baytown, the rate of maternal morbidity, a term that describes unexpected outcomes at the time of labor and delivery and lead to significant consequences for health, is almost double the state average. In a 2018 study, researchers at the University of Texas in Austin found that on average maternal morbidity rates in Texas in 2016 were about 17 per 1,000 deliveries. But in Baytown the rate was as high as 31 cases of severe maternal morbidity per 1,000 deliveries. The outcomes are more severe for people of color: Statewide maternal morbidity rates in Texas are 2.1 times higher for non-Hispanic Black women.  

A lack of access to abortion care will likely exacerbate these outcomes. Last week, Politico published a draft opinion from a majority of the U.S. Supreme Court justices overturning Roe v. Wade, the precedent-setting legal ruling that made access to abortion the law of the land almost 50 years ago. While the opinion isn’t final, it seems likely that the Supreme Court will overturn Roe this summer, potentially allowing states to determine whether abortion is legal within their own borders. 

If finalized, a ruling reversing Roe would place additional burdens on those living in environmental justice and frontline communities. About 25 states look set to ban abortions if Roe is overturned, and many of these states are in the South and along the Gulf Coast, where communities of color already face disproportionate environmental and climate burdens. These are also some of the very same states where access to healthcare and family planning services is limited, uninsured populations are high, and maternal health outcomes are lacking. 

“We know that being low income and being a person of color in the U.S. predisposes you to having lower access to health care,” said Hailey Duncan, an environmental justice policy analyst with the nonprofit Moms Clean Air Force. The “compounding factors” of being a person of color, living next to a polluting site like an oil and gas facility, and not having access to health care has an effect on pregnancy, she said.

Texas is one of the 13 states that have “trigger laws” that will automatically completely ban abortion as soon as Roe v. Wade is overturned, which means that if you are a person seeking an abortion who lives in Baytown, you will have to travel out of state. (Texas already has a law on the books outlawing abortion past six weeks; reversing Roe would eliminate even this early window).

Since almost all states bordering Texas are also trigger law states, you will have to travel a significant distance. One Marketwatch piece on the price of an out-of-state abortion — including travel, lodging, and lost wages — found that they cost thousands of dollars. One patient, who had to seek a complicated second-trimester operation, ended up incurring costs upward of $14,000. Even a $400 emergency cost would force 18 percent of households to borrow to cover it, and 12 percent would be unable to cover it altogether.

There is a refrain in the abortion rights movement that legally banning the procedure does not effectively end the practice of abortion; it simply limits who will be able to get them, or get them without fear of prosecution or governmental interference. That is, those who have the freedom and financial means to travel, take time off work, and cover medical costs will always be able to get an abortion if needed. And those who don’t will be left with few, if any, options.

Research abounds showing that those who live in the immediate vicinity of polluting sites tend to be lower income and disproportionately people of color — populations that are more likely to need abortion care in the first place. According to the Guttmacher Institute, 75 percent of abortion patients are poor or low income, and 61 percent are people of color. 

Furthermore, those in environmental justice communities are often unable to move due to financial constraints, low valuation of their property due to contamination, and social or family ties. In Baytown, for example, the median household income is around $54,000, lower than both the national and state median of Texas; the median home value is $126,500, one third of the national median home price; and seventeen percent of Baytown households live under the poverty line, 1.5 times the national poverty rate.

“Low-income households are much more likely to be women-led,” said Khalil Shahyd, managing director of environmental and equity strategies at the nonprofit Natural Resources Defense Council. “Whether we’re talking about the risk of natural disaster and flooding or displacement from homes, those homes that are typically at the highest risk are going to be lower-income homes, which are predominantly led by female heads of household.”

And then, not to pile further onto the embattled Baytown, there is the issue of climate impacts. The aftermath of Hurricane Harvey unveiled brutal inequities in community recovery from severe rain and flooding, where poor households in Harris County actually received less federal assistance than financially secure ones. In addition, it is the more socially vulnerable communities that live in the greater Houston area’s high-risk flood zones, as shown by ongoing Rice University research. Heat waves, which pose health risks to both pregnant people and their fetuses, are also predicted to become both more frequent and extreme along the already-sweltering Gulf Coast.

During Hurricane Harvey, pregnant people and those with young children had to swim to safety, recalled Erandi Treviño, a community organizer in Houston with Moms Clean Air Force. Basic necessities such as clean drinking water were hard to find. The added stress of trying to keep yourself and your child safe during a hurricane is harmful to pregnant people, she said. “Having to live under these conditions creates stress which turns into ailments.” 

Hidalgo, with Texas Environmental Justice Advocacy Services, said that in the aftermath of hurricanes, she often has to remind pregnant people to avoid venturing outside if they smell unpleasant odors. Petrochemical facilities often shut down during hurricanes for safety reasons. When they start back up, they release millions of pounds of harmful chemicals. “We always remind people that if they plan to go outside for a walk or for a jog, to not go whenever there’s a chemical fire, or to look for other areas that might not be as contaminated because it’s a danger to not only them but also to their developing child,” she said.

The climate is changing, and everyone on Earth will have to deal with that reality as it develops. When activists emphasize that social, environmental, and economic inequities are all connected, it can feel overwhelming to grasp the vast and fundamental features of our society that must change. But it simply means that there is a version of our future in which additional burdens — barriers to reproductive healthcare, lack of affordable housing, stagnant wages — make all of the challenges of climate change acutely worse for already vulnerable communities, and there is one in which those burdens are alleviated by intentional, forward-thinking, and realistic policy. 

Anecdotally, gardeners call their hobby therapeutic. Scientists are trying to provide proof

Other children used to hate weeding, but not me. In particular I enjoyed wielding a weeding fork, jamming its spikes deep into the earth and yanking them back out. There would be the soft snapping sound of roots as they were dislodged and broken, and a faint moist aroma as soil sprayed from the earth. After I pulled out every last trace of the weed and patted the soil back down, I was covered in dirt, sweat, plant juices — and a sense of accomplishment.

I might even go so far as to describe such an experience as therapeutic. Certainly, as a new study in the scientific journal PLOS One makes it clear, mental health professionals have good reason to consider the possibility that gardening — as well as making art, which is well-known to anyone familiar with the current art therapy craze — can be a potent mental health treatment.

RELATED: “My face looked wrong”: What it’s like living with body dysmorphic disorder

“Engaging in both gardening and art-making activities resulted in apparent therapeutic improvements for self-reported total mood disturbance, depression symptomatology, and perceived stress with different effect sizes following eight one-hour treatment sessions,” explained the authors after elaborating on how 42 healthy female volunteers were randomly assigned to parallel gardening and art-making groups for the experiment. “Gardening also resulted in improvements for indications of trait anxiety.”

Because the sample size was so small, the PLOS One study obviously cannot be the final word on the subject of whether gardening helps with mental illness. Study co-author Charles L. Guy, an environmental horticulture professor at the University of Florida, acknowledged as much when speaking with Salon by email.


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“The best evidence can be found in meta-analyses, which are studies that collect a set of similar studies (usually with small participant numbers) on a given topic statistically pooling the results from the included studies thereby producing a more robust determination of treatment outcome results,” Guy wrote to Salon. Guy mentioned six different meta-analysis studies over the years that shown “that gardening or horticultural therapy provides therapeutic benefits including mental health benefits.” Together, he argued that the studies provide evidence that is “compelling, but still insufficient compared to most medical practices based on unequivocal clinical trials.”

He added, “What gardening, however, does have, is literally millions of anecdotal accounts of self-perceived therapeutic benefits. I say from an experimental medical science perspective that the therapeutic benefits of gardening are hiding in plain sight, waiting to be tested and demonstrated scientifically.”

“A misconception that many may have is that gardening is something simple. It is not. It is a complex activity and in an experimental sense, it is a very complicated form of treatment.”

More and more scientists are trying to provide those scientific demonstrations. Last year, a paper in the journal Urban Forestry & Urban Greening found that Italians who practiced gardening to cope with COVID-19 related anxiety reported “lower psychopathological distress through decreased COVID-19 related distress.” More recently, scholars from several Michigan colleges interviewed a mainly African American sample of 28 gardeners in Detroit; their findings, published in the International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, were quite simply that people who gardened “reported that gardening improved their mood, relieved stress, was an important part of their spirituality, contributed to their personal growth, and provided an opportunity for helping others. These findings suggest that gardening may improve physical and mental health among diverse groups.”

This does not mean, however, that anyone should feel comfortable just picking up a weeding fork and digging into the earth.

“Gardening as we provided it in our study was well planned and organized just as horticultural therapy is a highly designed and planned treatment,” Guy pointed out. “A misconception that many may have is that gardening is something simple. It is not. It is a complex activity and in an experimental sense, it is a very complicated form of treatment.”

Yet even though gardening itself is complex, the human connections with plants is as fundamental as our very history.

“Over the course of our evolution, we were surrounded by plants that have always provided a significant portion of our nutritional needs long before agriculture, provided a place to dwell, shelter, and protection from the elements and animals that might hurt us,” Guy told Salon. “Even in our modern world, plants are central to our general health and wellbeing.”

Read more Salon articles on mental health:

For these intrepid gardeners, every seed counts

You can Grow Your Own Way. All spring and summer, we’re playing in the vegetable garden; join us for step-by-step guides, highly recommended tools, backyard tours, juicy-ripe recipes, and then some. Let’s get our hands dirty.


“Badenjan Sesame” eggplant from Kandahar; black Hungarian’ hot pepper from Kiskenfelegyhaza, Hungary; tomato from Isfahan, Iran — combing through the seed catalog on the Experimental Farm Network website is like getting a crash course in genetic seed diversity. Since its inception in 2013, EFN has been on a mission to preserve and expand biodiversity in crops. Nathan Kleinman and Dusty Hinzco, who first met via the Occupy Wall Street movement, co-founded the nonprofit cooperative to facilitate collaboration in plant breeding. For them, seeds aren’t just a way to put food on the table, they support displaced communities, promote food justice, and ensure a better future for all.

Even the sale of these seeds for profit — one part of their endeavor — is mission driven: The company uses sales to support research as well as distribution and growing. “It’s essential to get them into the hands of the people and communities from which they came,” says Kleinman. This is in sharp focus at a time when war, famine, and environmental destruction threatens so many communities, forcing immigration and loss of homeland. Kleinman’s own ancestors hailed from Odessa in Ukraine, and he has spent the last few months combing through about two dozen varieties of seeds from the country: sunflowers and calendula from Odessa and squash from Kryvyi Rih (where Volodymyr Zolensky is from). “We will use them to grow these crops and multiply as much as we can to preserve them for when the war is over. Rematriation of seeds is an important part of what we strive to do,” he says.

Over a lengthy conversation with Kleinman over the phone, it became apparent that the work of the seed-growers of EFN is not just commendable, it’s critical. Here, a condensed version of all we spoke about, from the origins of their movement to how they’re building seed hubs across the country, and the sometimes-murky ethics of seed collection.

Arati Menon: How did your work in seed preservation and collaboration begin?

Nathan Kleinman: The genesis of the project was in 2013; I had been doing hurricane recovery work with Occupy Sandy for about a year, and was attending a talk by Eric Toensmeier about combating climate change while conserving soil and preserving ecosystems. Part of what he spoke of was the struggle around developing perennial global grains, which are far more environmentally friendly than annuals — we need to grow more perennials to trap carbon in the soil. The primary issue is that people have been working in silos, being proprietary with their seed. We figured if we developed a way to get people collaborating together in a broad-based, decentralized way, we might be able to drive innovation and get some of these perennial grains to a point where they’re available as viable options for farmers.

It was really the experience of Occupy Sandy as a grassroots movement, which successfully mobilized thousands of volunteers very quickly for disaster relief, that made me think: What if we applied the same ethos and effort towards developing perennial agriculture?

How have you gone about building seed hubs across the country?

We knew early on that even if we identify climate change as an overriding issue of our times, there are also fundamental justice issues that impact how we eat and how we treat our environment and fellow human beings. We’ve worked with urban farms in Philadelphia doing what we could with historically oppressed communities. At the onset of the pandemic, we also developed a cooperative garden project, collecting seeds from companies and organizations and distributing them for free to anybody who requests them.

The model from the beginning has been a decentralized one where we ask individuals and organizations to host local hubs in their community. All they have to tell us is who they serve, how they will serve them, and which seeds are important in their communities. Most organic small-scale seed companies have risen to the occasion, providing seeds. As of last year we have over 300 seed hubs.

Where do you get your seeds from?

We get a lot of our seeds from the U.S. Department of Agriculture seed collections, which, for a century and a half, have come from around the world. Few know that these seeds are actually available to anyone in this line of work; there are probably over a million varieties, and they are adding new things to it all the time. But much of the important work that the USDA does is dependent on adequate funding from the Congress, and that’s constantly in peril.

Tell us about your work in cultural preservation.

Something we identified early on is that most communities we were in touch with were seeking culturally important seeds. African-American communities were seeking okra and collards; Asian communities were looking for Asian greens, bitter melons, and long beans; Indigenous communities looking for indigenous seeds. So we began doing what we could to bridge the gap between prospective growers and seed companies.

That realization helped to inspire one of our community organizers in Maryland to start a new farming alliance called UJAMAA. Originally a youth-led project aimed at supporting local black growers in South Maryland, the vision grew into a BIPOC-centered collective that intends to increase the availability of culturally meaningful seeds, with a strong focus on Black, Asian, and Indigenous crops. The idea being to provide opportunities and support for growers from historically oppressed and marginalized communities.

You’ve mentioned rematriation efforts. Tell us more about it.

My heritage is Eastern European Jewish, so I understand at a personal level what it’s like for a culture to be wiped off the map. I realized going through seed collections over the years, there were seeds from places that are hotbeds of violence and instability. One of the first I found were seeds collected in Kandahar in the mid-20th century. I’ve located seeds from Homs and Aleppo in Syria, a town in South Sudan . . . A major part of our mission is reproducing them and working to return to their communities. The process is called rematriation, because in most traditional cultures, women are the keepers of seeds. This is a long process that’s never that simple, but there’s so much need for it.

There’s also a real need to continually get seeds from the wild, like native medicinal plants, because so many are at risk of loss from invasive plants and deforestation.

How do you spread the good work?

Ours is a collaborative industry: We trade seeds with one another and share notes, all working together to preserve biodiversity. We created EFN as an open source platform to facilitate that kind of collaboration and it’s still the foundation of what we do.

At EFN anybody can host a project and sign up as a volunteer for a project. In a small garden at home you could be growing out seeds for a pathbreaking project, and it only involves some observation and patience and record-keeping. Some of our first volunteers are now growers who produce seeds that we sell in our catalog. We decided early on that we did not want to rely on grants and major donors, so we created a seed company to fund our work. It’s also a critical part of the work because it’s important to get them out there. There’s no point to them sitting in a freezer in a USDA bank in Iowa.

Let’s talk about the ethics of seed collection . . . 

We’ve been thinking a lot about the ethics around collection. Our work is a response to the recognition that much of seed collection is a result of imperialism. We’re interested in developing a new model of collection that’s not purely extraction but is reciprocal. Everywhere that I collect, I make sure to collect contact information to be transparent. If we commercialize any, I have every intention to offer royalties to these people.

So many crops that we think of as European have roots in the Global South or the Middle East or North or South America. One of the major symbols of the Ukraine war has been the sunflower, and sunflowers were domesticated by Native Americans in North America. We think of tomatoes as Italian, but they’re from South America. It’s important to make the effort to tell the whole story of these seeds with the original name, in the original language, because it’s deeply meaningful to someone.

Trump calls Elon Musk a “bulls**t artist”

Former President Donald Trump had a lot to say about Elon Musk during an event in Alaska on Saturday, referring to Musk as a “bulls**t artist.”

Trump, who recently stepped back from his own social media company, Trump Media and Technology Group, just prior to the company being served with federal subpoenas by the Securities and Exchange Commission and a Manhattan grand jury, told his audience at Saturday’s event for Republican midterm candidates that he predicted that Musk would not follow through with his $44 billion purchase of Twitter.

 

Calling Musk’s tabled agreement with Twitter a “rotten deal,” Trump furthered that “He’s not going to be by buying it. Although he might later. Who the hell knows what’s going to happen? He’s got a pretty rotten contract. I looked at his contract. Not a good contract.”


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In addition to comments made regarding Twitter, which banned Trump from their platform in 2021, the former president lashed out at Musk for reportedly lying about voting for him in 2016, according to New York Post

“You know, he said the other day, ‘Oh, I’ve never voted for a Republican.’ I said, ‘I didn’t know that, he told me he voted for me.’ So he’s another bulls–t artist,” Trump said.

Trump furthered his public endorsement of Sarah Palin during Saturday’s event, who is in the running for Alaska’s open seat in the U.S. House of Representatives. Palin took to the podium to call Trump “The best president we’ve ever had” applauding him for how he “cared about family” and supported “a culture of life and a culture of love.” 

Watch coverage of the event, which also features comments from Trump about keeping “men out of women’s sports” below:

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The Supreme Court, the fate of women — and Birgitte Nyborg of “Borgen”

When I watched the fourth season of the Danish political drama “Borgen,” recently released on Netflix, I initially concluded that the show had captured the changing zeitgeist: Women’s aspirations were spiraling downward. I was wrong. Women’s rights and women’s power never advanced as much as we hoped they would. We may have talked ourselves into believing that women could actually achieve equality. Now, both in fiction and reality, the darker truth is inescapable. 

When “Borgen” first hit the U.S. airwaves in 2011, American audiences were smitten by Birgitte Nyborg (played by Sidse Babett Knudsen), a relatable but politically savvy party leader who becomes Denmark’s first female prime minister. She was juggling work and family, but keeps most of the balls in the air. That first series concluded in 2013.

Last month, nearly a decade later, the fourth season of “Borgen” returned to the U.S. to critical acclaim. This time, however, “Borgen” is not aspirational. It shows us women in power who stumble. 

RELATED: Sam Alito’s ancient misogyny: SCOTUS rewinds to centuries-old law for abortion ban

Nyborg, now back in politics as foreign minister, is in the throes of menopause, her hot flashes and unpredictable menstruation apparently clouding her heretofore good judgment. TV journalist Katrine Fønsmark (Birgitte Hjort Sørensen), now news director of a major media outlet, finds herself unable to lead, challenged by both the women she supervises and her corporate masters. Birgitte sweats and bleeds; Katrine vomits.

They also are cast as bad mothers, or at the very least inattentive ones, whose fall from grace may be deserved, given their flouting of parental norms. This is the “Borgen” of women who lean in, teeter and then walk away from power. Vox may exalt in the demise of “the girlboss,” but I don’t find cause for joy. 

This change in attitude is reflected in the real world. I don’t expect Fox News host Tucker Carlson to say anything I agree with. But I was shocked when journalist Ben Smith, in a “dialogue” with Carlson this past week, had no retort or even a follow-up question when Carlson, while denying that he was a white supremacist, made this admission: “In my mind the sort of archetype of the person I don’t like is a 38-year-old female white lawyer with a barren personal life.”

Smith never asked Carlson about the misogyny behind those words, nor called out his bizarre inclusion of the adjective “barren,” which for generations was the word we used for a woman who could not bear children. 

What we saw in the more upbeat “Borgen” of a decade ago was a world where women could assume power on their own terms, redefine leadership and make a difference. Fat chance. A UN commission estimates it will take 130 years for women to achieve parity with men as national leaders. Worse, we’ve seen authoritarian strongmen increasingly take the reins of power. We endured a president who unabashedly admired them. 

In this country, the Supreme Court has made our losing ground inevitable. Amid the rubble of reproductive rights smashed by the court is the economic wellbeing of millions of women. For them, this decision is not just about the right to choose, it’s about survival. If you are a woman of color working a minimum-wage job, there is neither paid family leave nor affordable child care, and only limited access to decent housing and health care. 


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An unintended pregnancy can set poor women and their families back for years, perhaps with no ability to recover what little financial stability or prospects for a better future they may have had. The court knew that perfectly well, having received an amicus brief signed by more than 150 economists and researchers warning of women’s financial peril if Roe were overturned. 

And yet the judges persisted. Sadly, the gang of five included a wife and mother. Justice Amy Coney Barrett has borne or adopted seven children, including a child with special needs. But she’s been sheltered and cosseted from the demands of motherhood her entire life. It’s like saying that Marie Antoinette must understand the housing crisis because she’s a homeowner. 

Of course American women have made gains over the years. But our status is fragile. A pandemic knocked more than a million of us out of the labor force, when schools and day care centers closed. The Supreme Court’s ruling now holds us hostage to lawmakers who know as much about a women’s body as they do about the internet. 

Even the most privileged among us now realize, like Birgitte Nyborg, that they need to watch their backs. The world likes nothing better than to see a powerful woman fail. 

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Just the tips: “How To Build a Sex Room” host wants to spice up your life with sensual design

Before you consider hiring interior designer Melanie Rose to create a personal lovemaking retreat, there’s something you need to know. “I’m slightly dominant,” she admitted in a recent interview with Salon.

She views that as a comfort to he clients. After all, people hire her for a specialty explained in the title of her Netflix series: “How To Build a Sex Room.” Rose is an expert at making people’s kinks and sensual fantasies a reality by transforming an ordinary room in their homes into a swoon-worthy boudoir built for connection and coitus.

For that, she explains, one has to be able to take command. “Because if someone’s coming to you with a blank slate, you have to be able to tell them what to do with it, right?”

The Los Angeles-based British designer takes on a series of spaces for clients who range from married couples that have back-burnered their sex lives to long-distance relationship partners seeking a landing pad between their separations. There’s a family whose children have taken over, and there’s a family consisting of two women and four men in a polyamorous relationship. Rose carefully listens to all of their needs, helps them consider options they hadn’t thought of, and in the end hands them a space designed for connection, play and plenty of kink.

RELATED: Polyamorous relationships under severe strain during the pandemic

One strains to imagine this show occupying a slot on HGTV, and yet the aspirational appeal is the same. Although Rose’s sex rooms are luxurious in every sense of the word, they are attainable with a bit of creativity and an unfettered imagination. A recent interview yielded a cascade of tips on how to create your own getaway for getting down, along with speaking to the question of whether her reputation as “The Mary Poppins of Sex Rooms” gives her a leg up in terms of putting nervous clients at ease.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

“I think that’s really what it boils down to, is my rooms are sexy and sensual.”

It’s been said by many people, including John Oliver, that Americans hear or interact with a person who was born and raised in Britain and has a British accent in a way that assumes authority and also assumes comfort. For example, somebody called you “The Mary Poppins of Sex Rooms.” How do you feel about that? Does that annoy you?

Not at all! I mean, I, am very British. And yes, I love being called Mary Poppins. Why wouldn’t I? I think it’s fun.

I wonder if your way of speaking adds additional comfort when you’re sitting in front of people and having these very frank conversations about sexual preference, as in “Do you like bondage?” Or, say, when you’re pulling a butt plug out of your purse. This is not something that many people do on TV or, you know, in any public place.

I agree. Certainly my English accent, I think people do find some comfort in it. But also, subtle is not in my vocabulary. I’m just very matter-of-fact about it. So if I come across like that, then people tend to think, “Oh, thank goodness, OK, she’s approachable.” You can talk to me about anything; it doesn’t matter. I’m here to listen, as a designer, to what your needs are. And I think my accent and just my personality hopefully helps.

Enough about that! Let’s get to the meat of this conversation, which concerns your design skills.  What makes a sex room different from a room that might be described as, say, sexy or sensual?

That’s a very interesting question, actually. I think most of my rooms, to whatever point and whatever the client wants, do come across as sensual as well. I think you can say, “Oh, this is a very sensual living room” or “This is a very sensual bedroom.” And what makes it different from my rooms is what’s actually in there. What’s actually hiding beneath the sheets? What’s hiding behind the picture frames, or what’s in drawers? I think that’s really what it boils down to, is my rooms are sexy and sensual. There is also a little bit of hidden vibrators, cock rings, butt plugs and floggers somewhere around there.

How To Build a Sex RoomRyan, Raj, and Melanie Rose in “How To Build a Sex Room” (Courtesy of Netflix)

You’ve been doing this for quite some time. Are people a little more familiar with those devices than they were when you first started?

I think so. Over the years it has become a little bit more approachable to talk about these things. And of course, we’ve certainly had those stores on the high streets open up. Then we also had, you know, talking points from the movie and things like that. I think that opened people’s minds and doors. I do know during the pandemic, sales of adult toys or sex toys actually went up 400% because people needed to find things to do when they were at home just being, you know home and alone, I suppose.

You mention in the series that one point in your design career, you had not designed a sex room until a client asked you to do. How did that room rate on the scale of, you know, what we’re seeing on the show?

Oh, that was very interesting. Yes, I had been with this particular client for about four or five years. You find in interior design, you do have long-stay relationships with your clients, and they ask you continually for your help, and so forth.

She asked me one time if I’d ever designed a sex room and I was like, “Uh, ‘sex room’? No?” 

I’m curious by nature. So I went home and Googled it and found all these sort of like dungeons and stuff like that. And I was like, “Ooh, those don’t look very nice.” Then I thought, “But, why? Why don’t they look nice, when they could look really beautiful?’ So I thought, Why not? Let’s just go out and design a sex room and make it look beautiful. Make it something that people, when you mention the words “sex room,” don’t think that it’s disgusting and dirty. Because my designs are not like that at all, as I’m sure you can see from the show,

You said you looked at these examples and said, “Oh, this isn’t very nice.” What were some of the things that you decided to do differently?

I found them depressing. I found them very sterile. I didn’t feel they had any personality. And a sex room doesn’t have to be like that. You need to bring personality into a room. And, you know, I wanted to make them much more higher end.

So was it the colors? I don’t want to belabor the point, I’m seeking clarification. Was it colors? Was it textures? What was it?

Colors and textures – I mean, you know, dark and dingy, dungeon-like. Dark grays. Concrete. Brick walls, that kind of thing. Nothing that would make me want to go in there and, you know, be seduced by a dominatrix or something like that. That’s not it. They just didn’t look very nice. And I think that comes also partly comes down to lighting as well.

How To Build a Sex RoomMelanie Rose in “How To Build a Sex Room” (Courtesy of Netflix)I wonder if that’s kind of the related to the puritanical view of sex as something that’s secretive, and therefore is relegated to a utilitarian space. If the thought is like, “Since I’m going to have a sex room, it’s going to go in my basement, because these things must be kept out of sight.”

Yeah, I think it is. I do agree that certain rooms that do come across as utilitarian. Not my rooms. I want mine to be more accessible to people. I’m creating experience for them, so I want them to fall in love with that room. I want them to be able to gravitate to that space, and have some fun. You know, that’s really what this is about: to have good sex and be able to communicate with each other and express, perhaps crossing the boundary or two.

“It’s just a question of being creative, and using your imagination.”

I’m actually kind of obsessed with design and design shows, so let’s talk about that. What do you think is essential if somebody wanted to begin the process of constructing their own sex room in their house?

I think that if you are going to, if you don’t have an alternative space or an additional room, the most obvious space is the bedroom. So therefore, if you want to turn it into something a little bit more sensual, I would certainly think about some mood lighting. You want to create an ambiance. You want to create that romance, that sensuality that then, hopefully, eventually leads to a couple or partners making love. Change your bedsheets. Get something luxurious. Put some throw cushions in there, have some candles. I don’t necessarily use real candles. I’ll use the ones that are battery-operated, where you can have the have them lit up or use them on a dimmer. Just create that room that’s something special.

The design aesthetic in Europe is at a higher level than much of what we have in the U.S. because we shop at a lot of big box stores. There’s a lot of utilitarianism to our design, almost the equivalent of fast fashion, that might defy what a sex room requires. Is there a way to find that meeting between, say, an IKEA budget and a sex room construction? How do those ends meet?

Look, there’s nothing wrong with shopping in IKEA. And there’s lots of IKEA hacks out there where you can actually get the furniture home, decorate it in a different way, put on different knobs and things like that. I tried to keep my designs as timeless as possible. I don’t want it to be a fashion fad at this moment in time. I want to listen to what the client wants, and then provide for them what they actually need.

I do a lot of thrifting – obviously not with sex toys.

Of course not. I would hope not!

God, no. But my question is, do you have to be willing to splurge or perhaps set a standard on certain things, besides the sex toys, in order to achieve the look that you are demonstrating on the show?

Just let me go back to the sex toys for a moment. There are lower-end sex toys out there in the marketplace. I would actually splurge and go for want something that’s actually going to last and last a little bit longer. And as far as thrifting things, if you want to update your bedroom into something more sensual, it’s just a question of being creative, and using your imagination.

How To Build a Sex RoomHow To Build A Sex Room (Caleb Alvarado/Netflix)

So let’s talk about specific episodes, because I think that we have a tendency, when we look at these shows, not only look at the room, but also kind of wonder how much of a personality match we might be to a couple who’s featured. In that respect, what was the most challenging room of the season and, I don’t mean this in pejorative way, but who were the most challenging clients?

I think that the challenge in designing for any of them, especially for this show, was our time constraints. You’ll notice that some rooms just needed some light redecorating in a sense. Other rooms needed full-on remodels and pulling stuff down.

What was the most challenging one? I think, probably, at the end of the day that would have been the family, simply because there are six people, there are six different personalities. So for me as a designer, I need to listen to each one of those and take that on board and try and bring them together, bring all those ideas into to one design.

And particularly because I needed to put in a tiled floor, because of their sexual activities in that room. It also needed to have a drain. So there was a lot of a lot of work on that.


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Have you grown into your comfort level with different sexual lifestyles in your clients? Or have you always had that comfort with them?

I’ve always had that comfort with clients. Look, subtlety is not a word I use. In my conversations, I’m very open. I do swear a lot. And I think that actually puts people at ease, because they go, “Oh, my God, she swears as well.” Yes, I do. I’m quite normal. And it gives them comfort. But yeah, I’m not shocked by anything at all.

Is there one common thing that you’d say would be wrong for a sex room?

Yeah. Don’t try and hang a sex swing from the ceiling. If you’ve not got backing in there, it’s going to end up with disastrous results.

Have you known that to happen?

Oh, yes, it’s happened to people. It’s like, ” What? You’re going to put it in drywall and hope that it’s going to carry 150 pounds? 180 pounds? 200 pounds? Are you kidding me? Put it in a ceiling joist or reinforced that particular area. Yeah, it’s nuts, what people do sometimes.

“How to Build a Sex Room” is currently streaming on Netflix. Watch a trailer via YouTube.

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In economics, grade restrictions weed out students of color

In the summer of 2020, when many college campuses were still coming to grips with the murder of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer, students of color in the University of California, Berkeley economics department met with faculty on Zoom to talk about tensions that they and their peers were feeling. The group discussed “very basic stuff,” recalls Teresita Cruz Vital, one of the students who’d requested the meeting: “What is racism? What is white supremacy?” And how were those ideas manifesting in the economics department?

But Cruz Vital says the students also aired a grievance about a department policy that, on its face, appeared to have little if anything to do with race.

Berkeley’s economics department has long required most students to achieve at least a 3.0 grade point average in a set of prerequisite courses — currently statistics, calculus 1 and 2, and introductory and intermediate economics — to gain admission into the major. (The threshold is slightly lower for transfer students.) Similar GPA-based restrictions have been deployed elsewhere at Berkeley, and beyond, typically to limit the number of students pursuing majors strained by high enrollment. They are especially common in science, technology, engineering, and math — known as the STEM disciplines — but they have also proliferated in fields like finance and economics. In 2019, no fewer than 20 of the top 25 public universities in the U.S. News and World Report rankings imposed a GPA restriction on at least one major.

Cruz Vital had a gut feeling, but no hard data to show that her department’s restriction was disproportionately impacting nontraditional and socioeconomically disadvantaged students, who are more likely to come from underrepresented racial and ethnic backgrounds. As cofounder of a student group for underrepresented minorities in economics, she personally knew many of the people who’d fallen victim to the cutoff. What Cruz Vital did not know at the time was that two economists — one at Berkeley, another down the coast in Santa Barbara — were gathering exactly the kind of statistical evidence that could, and soon would, confirm her instincts.

Those economists, Zach Bleemer and Aashish Mehta, analyzed detailed records for 900,000 students who’d enrolled at four University of California campuses between 1975 and 2018, and they found evidence that GPA restrictions do, in fact, disproportionately push Black and Hispanic students out of restricted majors. An apparent effect of the restrictions is to shunt those students from more lucrative majors to less lucrative ones, limiting their career earning prospects well after graduation and contributing to persistent racial wage gaps.

Bleemer and Mehta’s preliminary findings, released last December, have yet to be formally vetted by experts. If they hold up to scrutiny, they’ll add to a growing body of evidence that a culture of competition in many introductory college courses, known as weed-out courses, is exacting an outsized toll on students from underrepresented racial and ethnic backgrounds. For university administrators and department chairs who are struggling to balance scarce teaching resources with shifting student preferences, the findings pose a question with few, if any, simple answers: If it is true that GPA restrictions are disproportionately penalizing Black and Hispanic college students, what can be done about that?

Aa best as Shachar Kariv can remember, there were only 600 students majoring in economics at Berkeley when he first began teaching there 19 years ago. Since then, the major’s popularity has surged nationwide, and the tally at Berkeley has nearly tripled to 1,700, says Kariv, who’s now the department chair. The growth spurt has stretched the department thin. “I don’t have enough classrooms,” he says. “I don’t have enough teaching assistants.”

“We are so large that only half of our teaching assistants are economics students,” Kariv adds. He says he’s had to poach the workers from other parts of campus — the business school, the school of public policy — and has even resorted to hiring undergraduates.

Still, Kariv says that his department’s GPA restriction is not intended as a tool for managing enrollment levels. And the policy has been on the books for decades, since well before the major’s recent surge in popularity. Rather, Kariv sees the GPA threshold as a way to identify students who are unlikely to succeed in the major and steer them to a major where they can be more successful — essentially, a mechanism to save underperforming students from themselves. The view of the department, he says, is that “if you don’t get a B in the basic courses, maybe economics is not for you. You’re actually going to fail, you’re going to struggle.”

When Kariv talks about students who, judged on the strength of their GPA, will struggle and fail, he is talking about people like Emmanuel Prunty.

Prunty left his hometown of Altadena, California for Berkeley in the fall of 2015 on a whim, he says, without ever having visited the campus. He says he’d been dealing with personal things at home, and he knew he wanted to get away: “I just wanted to start off something new.”

In his first semester at Berkeley, Prunty found himself adrift and isolated. He was often, if not always, the only Black person in his classes. He was short on money, and he couldn’t depend on his family for financial support. And he says he didn’t handle the workload well. “By the time of finals, I was just completely exhausted, depressed,” he recalls.

“The combination of all that, it just crushed me at the end,” he adds. He says he bombed three of his finals and ended his first semester with a 0.67 GPA — one B minus and three Fs, including an F in calculus.

For the next two years, Prunty would try to dig himself out of the hole. He continued to struggle with anxiety during and leading up to big exams, but his grades improved. He fell in love with economics, which he says felt intuitive and made sense to him. He even became an economics tutor, one of several jobs he juggled throughout school to help support himself.

By 2017, he’d nearly clawed his way to the 3.0 GPA he needed to declare the economics major. But the B plus he earned in intermediate microeconomics — the last of his prerequisite courses — was not enough to get him over the bar, and he says he ended up with a 2.93. “I applied to the major and, of course, I got denied because I didn’t have the GPA requirements.”

Prunty remembers it as a painful defeat: “I was the econ tutor who wasn’t even going to be able to be an econ major.”

Prior to coauthoring the new study on GPA restrictions, Aashish Mehta had seen a number of Emmanuel Pruntys pass his way. An economist by training, Mehta teaches at the University of California, Santa Barbara, in Global Studies, an interdisciplinary department that draws from fields as varied as social science, history, and religion in order to understand globalization and its impacts. Mehta says the major has become a popular second choice for students who get pushed out of economics. “Some of them were students who I thought were quite promising, who told me they were interested in economics,” he says. That so many students were being cut off from their major of choice seemed to him like a missed opportunity. “It seemed inefficient,” he says.

Mehta teamed up with a Berkeley graduate student, Bleemer, who is currently a postdoctoral fellow at Harvard University and will become an assistant professor at Yale in July, to try to understand how GPA restrictions were impacting students more broadly. The pair looked at more than 40 years of data on student enrollment at four UC campuses — Berkeley, Davis, Santa Barbara, and Santa Cruz — dating back to the 1970s. They used statistical techniques to try to identify the effects of 29 GPA restrictions that were imposed by various departments on those campuses during that time span, and they found that in the years immediately after a restriction was adopted, the share of underrepresented students in the restricted major fell, on average, by 20 percent. Black and Hispanic students, they found, were more than twice as likely as their White and Asian peers to be pushed out of the major as a result of the restriction.

Bleemer and Mehta suspect this disparity can be traced to inequities in pre-college education. “It looks like the students who are able to achieve access to these restricted majors may have had differential access to, say, AP courses in those fields,” says Bleemer.

“They probably came from somewhat higher income families, and so had greater access to academic opportunity before they showed up on campus,” he adds. “These are all things that are correlated with race.”

The results seem to corroborate, with statistical rigor, the view held by many higher education experts that intensely competitive introductory and prerequisite courses are key drivers of attrition for students of color in STEM and other highly technical fields. Studies suggest that these students, in addition to often having limited access to pre-college academic opportunities, may also be more frequently subjected to negative social and psychological cues, such as racial stereotyping or exclusion from study groups. One recent analysis, yet to be formally vetted by experts, suggests that when Black, Hispanic, or Indigenous students do perform poorly in these weed-out courses, the consequences are more severe than for their peers: A student’s odds of completing a STEM major fall considerably if they score a D or worse in even a single introductory course, but the decline seems to be far steeper for women and underrepresented minorities than it is for White and Asian men, even after controlling for academic preparedness.

The study by Bleemer and Mehta also suggests another, very tangible cost of weed-out culture — one that may linger long after graduation and extend far beyond any college campus. The economists found that a cumulative effect of the University of California campuses’ GPA restrictions was to steer Black and Hispanic students into fields that would pay them less, after graduation, than the fields they would have gone into had no restriction been in place. That finding dovetails with a recent study by The Urban Institute, a nonprofit research organization, that showed that Black undergraduates tend to be overrepresented in lower-paying majors like public administration and social services, and underrepresented in lucrative majors like engineering, mathematics, and statistics. Hispanic undergraduates, also underrepresented in STEM, tended to be overrepresented in majors like language studies and linguistics.

According to a 2020 report from the Washington, D.C.-based think tank The Economic Policy Institute, Hispanic college-educated workers earn 84.5 cents, and Black college educated workers just 77.5 cents, for every dollar earned by their White peers. Bleemer and Mehta found evidence that those disparities may be partly attributable to the inequitable distribution of racial and ethnic groups between high-paying and low-paying majors — an effect the researchers call the major premium gap. After narrowing in the 1970s and 1980s and nearly closing in the 1990s, the major premium gap has been widening ever since and now stands at about 3 cents on the dollar, equivalent to around $2,000 in lost annual income for the average Black and Hispanic college educated worker, based on average salary data from the Bureau of Labor Statistics. Bleemer and Mehta’s modeling suggests that the gap’s recent widening is largely a biproduct of the rising popularity of GPA restrictions.

Mehta sees a cruel irony at play: The students snared by GPA restrictions are, in many cases, precisely the ones who would benefit the most from being allowed to stay in the major. “Our estimate is that potential earning gain is bigger for the students who got denied than the students who were just let in,” he says.

“If we could allow these students in,” he adds, “we will deliver not just more learning, but also more upward mobility.”

When Prunty, sitting at a 2.93 GPA in his prerequisite courses, was denied admission to Berkeley’s economics major, he still had some recourse. In the economics department, a student who does not meet the major’s GPA requirement can file an appeal. So Prunty did exactly that. He explained the personal trials he’d weathered during his time on campus. He touted his work as an economics tutor, and got his boss to write a letter of recommendation. His macroeconomics professor, with whom he’d built a good relationship, also vouched for him.

When Prunty’s appeal was accepted and he was admitted into the major, it was “like I got this weight lifted off my shoulders,” he remembers. He went on to earn a double major in economics and ethnic studies, finishing with a 3.4 GPA. He now works as a research associate with the Public Policy Institute of California.

But for every Emmanuel Prunty, there are others who are turned away. In the 2014-15 academic year, the economics department rejected 236 applicants to the economics major — around one fourth of the students who applied — according to a study by UC Berkeley’s faculty governance body, the Academic Senate. Cruz Vital, who says she’s helped many peers write appeal letters over the years, has seen some students win admittance, complete the major, and go on to land prestigious economics positions. But she’s also seen the department reject students who’ve attested to suffering hardships and extenuating circumstances. And some students, she says, may be unaware that there is an option to appeal at all: “It’s not something that they actively advertise on the website.”

Both Prunty and Cruz Vital say they would like the economics department to adopt a holistic admissions process for all of its applicants, not just those who are in the position of having to appeal. They’d like to see the department consider not just a student’s GPA but their experiences, their campus involvement, the arc of their academic growth, and other intangibles.

Other departments, including some on the Berkeley campus, already use holistic selection criteria. Bleemer and Mehta find preliminary evidence that, unlike GPA requirements, these holistic admission processes don’t adversely impact racial and ethnic representation.

Kariv, Berkeley’s economics chair, agrees that a more holistic process would be more ideal than what his department currently has in place, but he indicated the department doesn’t have the resources it would need to implement such a system. “I need more undergraduate advisers,” he says, adding that the ratio of students to undergraduate advisers in his department is among the highest on campus. “Because they know the students. They know how to do it holistically.”

The dilemma plaguing Berkeley’s economics department is one that Stephen Schmidt, an economics professor at Union College in upstate New York, has also grappled with in recent years. Schmidt has taught at the small liberal arts school long enough to remember when the economics major first began to boom in popularity there, after the Great Recession of the late aughts. In the span of just a few years, the number of undergraduates in his department swelled by about 50 percent. Eventually, one in five graduates of Union College was an economics major. In response to the rising demand, the department began requiring students to earn a C or better in each of three intermediate economics courses before continuing to the major’s higher-level courses.

Schmidt is one of the few scholars — aside from Bleemer and Mehta — who have published on the impacts of GPA restrictions. In 2021, he published a statistical analysis showing that his department’s policy dissuaded about six students per year, or roughly one in 17 prospective economics majors, from pursuing the degree. He says he doesn’t have enough data to discern the policy’s impact on racial and ethnic representation, but, on balance, it seems to have slightly boosted representation of women in the major.

Still, Schmidt recognizes that a GPA requirement — for that matter, any system that rations access to education — is imperfect. He’s considered the idea of admitting applicants on a first-come, first-served basis, but he thinks that would favor students who come to campus already knowing they want to major in economics, a demographic he says is likely to skew White and male. Hiring a wave of new faculty to meet the surge in student demand would be impractical, he says — a costly, long-term fix to what might be a short-term problem. A new tenure track professor might stay with a school for decades, but a major that’s trendy today could fade in popularity after a few years.

“There are no silver bullets for this other than to have a whole bunch more economics professors show up. That’s the silver bullet,” he says. “But that’s costly. Very, very costly.”

In the spring of 2020, the Berkeley economics department was subjected to what Kariv, in true economist form, refers to as a natural experiment. In a move aimed at alleviating the stress and anxiety caused by the Covid-19 pandemic, the College of Letters and Sciences, which houses the economics department, defaulted to grading courses as pass-no pass, and the economics department relaxed its prerequisite restrictions. Kariv says the policy led the ranks of economics majors to surge even faster than usual — growth that he suggests would not be sustainable in the long run.

In the spring of 2023, the department will undergo an academic program review, a formal assessment performed once every 10 years in which the department takes stock of itself and sets teaching and research priorities for the decade ahead. Kariv said he expects that the GPA restriction policy will be an important part of that review.

Asked if Bleemer and Mehta’s study has changed the calculus on the issue, Kariv answers that it has, but that a sea of other factors and constraints have moved the needle as well. “We always need to think outside of the box,” he says.

“I’m open to any innovative ways to do it better. Absolutely,” he adds. “Do I have a magic wand to do it better? I don’t.”


Ashley Smart is the associate director of the Knight Science Journalism Program at MIT, and a senior editor at Undark.

This article was originally published on Undark. Read the original article.

The “Stranger Things” final season should go full “Jurassic World: Dominion” and embrace a new era

The fourth season ending of “Stranger Things” recalled a few classic scenes. A crack split the ground as Max, the final sacrifice of Big Bad Vecna, died for a few minutes (don’t worry — it was only a few minutes), giving the monstrous Upside Down the opening it needed. Pulsing with red fire, most of the town mistook the widening doorway of another dimension for a more natural disaster.

That instantly brought me back to a beloved film, one of those relics from childhood that was so difficult to find as an adult, and as no one else seemed to remember it, I was almost convinced it never happened: “Timescape,” a 1992 film starring Jeff Daniels. (It was renamed for the video release: “Grand Tour: Adventure in Time,” which might be part of the issue.) In the film, a town deals with tragedy while a widowed innkeeper and his daughter realize some of their guests are from the future and have come to “observe” the disaster. Spoiler: it’s not going to be just one disaster.

The “Stranger Things” finale also called back another ’80s classic: “Red Dawn,” where a gang of teens, including Patrick Swayze and Charlie Sheen, fight back when their small town is invaded by Russian troops. But the direction “Stranger Things” seems most likely to be headed in recalls a much more recent film, one still in theaters now: “Jurassic World: Dominion.” 

That’s right. In its last season, “Stranger Things” is letting the dinos out.

RELATED: How to fix “Stranger Things” for its fifth and final season

We don’t know much about the next and allegedly final installment of the adventures of the Hawkins kids. The show’s creators, the Duffer Brothers, announced the formation of a production company devoted so far to “Stranger Things” spinoffs, a manga adaption and an adaption of the Stephen King and Peter Straub book “Talisman,” which Lucas reads to Max in her hospital room. I feel like Max would be more of a Robin McKinley fan, but OK. 

Stranger ThingsNatalia Dyer as Nancy Wheeler, Charlie Heaton as Jonathan Byers, Finn Wolfhard as Mike Wheeler, Noah Schnapp as Will Byers, David Harbour as Jim Hopper, Winona Ryder as Joyce Byers, and Millie Bobby Brown as Eleven in “Stranger Things” (Courtesy of Netflix)We do know that the Upside Down is headed our way in a major way. For the previous seasons of the show, the government and Eleven (mostly Eleven) have been able to keep the Upside Down in check. There are cracks, creepy passageways from our world into this other kind of world, but only cracks, like chinks in the armor of reality. 

That all changes in season 4 when it’s revealed that once-human monster Vecna has established multiple gates between the Upside Down and our world. The gates are opened by child sacrifices. He’s happy to oblige

Nature finds a way. So does the Upside Down.

What does this have in common with big screen dinos? For years and multiple movies, the intrepid heroes of “Jurassic” have done their best to contain the dinosaurs, brought back from extinction as a profitable science experiment. Eccentric billionaire gonna eccentric billionaire. 

But by 2018’s “Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom,” the precursor to “Dominion,” it was clear humans had lost that war. A Mosasaurus gets ready to snack on surfers. A T-Rex breaks into a zoo. The dinosaurs are out, and the zookeepers have lost all control, after a well-meaning child lets the captive and poached creatures go, rather than watch them die.

Jurassic World: DominionOwen Grady (Chris Pratt) and a Parasaurolophus in “Jurassic World: Dominion” (Universal Pictures / Amblin Entertainment)Nature finds a way. So does the Upside Down. As Vecna’s final gate opens, all we have seen so far of the sticky, other dimension is pieces — but we know more is coming. Thunder rumbles. The main theme song rolls. The clouds darken, and fluffy dust, that distinctive Upside Down hallmark, begins to drift through the real-life sky. 

We’re not in Indiana anymore. Or, we are, but things are going to be different in Season 5. It’s a welcome change and a smart one. Finally, the battle has come to the people. 

Stranger ThingsDavid Harbour as Jim Hopper in “Stranger Things” (Courtesy of Netflix)

Great things can happen when the monsters get loose. Witness “Gremlins 2.” 

My family and I looked forward to “Jurassic World: Dominion,” the long-awaited, long-delayed film, like a vacation. We saw it in a preview screening before opening day. The potential was so high, I thought: the juxtaposition of ancient, hungry creatures and our confusing, industrialized and increasingly awful world. 

The scenes where “Dominion” took advantage of this clash were its best scenes. A tasty man on a scooter was dispatched by a carnivore! (The audience cheered.) Brontosauruses were relocated by sympathetic loggers! But these scenes were few and far between, as the film chose to mostly wallow in nostalgia.

Jurassic World: DominionDr. Ian Malcolm (Jeff Goldblum), Dr. Alan Grant (Sam Neill), Dr. Ellie Sattler (Laura Dern), Claire Dearing (Bryce Dallas Howard), Owen Grady (Chris Pratt), Maisie Lockwood (Isabella Sermon) and Kayla Watts (DeWanda Wise) in “Jurassic World: Dominion” (Universal Pictures / Amblin Entertainment)That’s an issue that has been a problem of “Stranger Things” as well, dwelling too much in its love of the past rather than making its own myths. And as every season has paid homage in some way to classic films of the ’80s, from “The Thing” to “A Nightmare on Elm Street,” I wonder if the final season will choose a movie like “Red Dawn” where the Wolverines defend their town, or another childhood favorite: 1980’s “The Fog,” which saw a seaside village attacked by deadly clouds containing pirate ghosts.

Nothing brings a town together like an extensional threat (or, will tear it apart, as in Stephen King’s “The Mist”). But great things can happen when the monsters get loose. Witness “Gremlins 2.” 

Stranger ThingsMillie Bobby Brown as Eleven, Finn Wolfhard as Mike Wheeler and Noah Schnapp as Will Byers in “Stranger Things” (Courtesy of Netflix)“Stranger Things” is posed to go deeper than “Dominion” did. Where else can it go? (Besides a time-jump to the ’90s.) And when demodogs start rooting through trash cans and hive mind vines creep up the side of the high school, someone beyond our heroes is going to have to say something, right? The disbelieving, disinterested adults are going to have to accept it. They’re going to have to start paying attention and to fight back (I nominate long-suffering, unfulfilled Mrs. Wheeler as the first skeptical adult to join the revolution). 


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“Stranger Things” has always been the kids vs. adults, the darkest metaphor for childhood as children fight their demons alone and disbelieved. But Joyce believes first. Then Hopper. The kids get an older champion on their side in the stalwart Steve Harrington. Eddie dies for them. Several adults would now, including Murray. “I want to believe,” is the stubborn saying of that kid in a grownup FBI agent’s body, Fox Mulder. 

But adults like Alan Grant, whose eyes fill with tears as he reverts to back to a wide-eyed child seeing a real dinosaur for the first time, don’t have to want to believe. They just do. And in the last season of “Stranger Things,” so might everyone else.

When the Upside Down comes to town, as Ian Malcolm says about the dinosaurs: “We’re going to have to adjust to new threats that we can’t imagine. We’ve entered a new era.”

More stories like this

 

America needs a true wealth tax: Here’s our plan to tax the rich — the really, really rich

The danger that extreme wealth poses to democracy is ever-present, and the idea that it must be restrained is almost as old as democracy itself. In 1792, Thomas Paine wrote that the freedom of elections was “violated by the overbearing influence” of inherited wealth, and proposed an extremely aggressive wealth tax that would have put a hard ceiling on how much wealth a person could accumulate. Nearly a century ago, Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis famously observed: “We can have democracy in this country, or we can have great wealth concentrated in the hands of a few, but we can’t have both.”

Paine’s plan to fix this problem was the right one: taxation. America’s ever-increasing inequality has motivated recent tax proposals targeting the ultra-rich, but the primary purpose has been to raise revenue, with any reduction in our concentration of wealth being incidental. While we do not oppose any of those proposals, we believe America needs a tax designed exclusively for the purpose of addressing the threat that our extreme concentration of wealth poses to democracy. 

RELATED: No, Elon Musk, America isn’t a gerontocracy: The real issue is wealth inequality

To that end, we developed our proposal, the Oppose Limitless Inequality Growth and Restore Civil Harmony (OLIGARCH) Act, as a straightforward progressive annual tax on extreme wealth. But instead of being tied to an arbitrary amount of wealth, say $50 million, the tax would have four brackets based on a household’s wealth compared to that of the median American household: 2% on wealth between 1,000 and 10,000 times median household wealth, 4% on wealth between 10,000 and 100,000 times median household wealth, 6% on wealth between 100,000 and 1,000,000 times median household wealth, and 8% on wealth over 1,000,000 times median household wealth. Currently, the threshold for taxation under our proposal would exceed $100 million. 

Structuring a tax this way specifically targets the extreme concentration of wealth: The tax would wax and wane along with wealth concentration, rather than in response to legislative tweaking. It would automatically kick into high gear during periods of worsening inequality, when wealth at the top is increasing faster than wealth in the middle. But when the economy works for the middle class, causing median household wealth to increase and inequality to moderate to an acceptable level, the tax would  taper off to near nonexistence. The tax would apply exclusively to those whose wealth, if allowed to grow unchecked, could be unhealthy for our society, and would ask much more from the ultra-ultra-wealthy than it does from those who are “just” ultra-wealthy. 

We used the analysis of Thomas Piketty, Emmanuel Saez and Gabriel Zucman [table E4] to assess how this proposal would respond to changes in wealth concentration. In 1980, fewer than 0.005 percent of adults had more than 1,000 times the median wealth, the threshold for taxation under our proposal. By contrast, in 2019, after 39 years of increasing wealth concentration, about 0.025 percent of adults — five times the 1980 level — had wealth exceeding 1,000 times median wealth.

At the two top tax brackets, it’s even clearer. Comparing Forbes’ data for the richest Americans to estimates of median household wealth from the Federal Reserve, we estimate that in 1983 no American would have had wealth equal to 100,000 times median household wealth, our proposal’s threshold for the 6% tax rate. But in 2021, about 52 Americans would have exceeded that threshold, with two Americans having wealth greater than 1,000,000 times median household wealth. 


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These changing numbers reveal how quickly the divide between the rich and the rest of us is widening, and the critical need for significant tax reform. Both Paine and Brandeis saw out-of-control wealth accumulation as a crisis deserving aggressive government action, but the concentration of wealth in America’s early years pales in comparison to the inequality of today. The pandemic has only widened the distance between the ultra-rich and everyone else. While families struggled with losses of jobs, income and loved ones over the past two years, America’s 700-odd billionaires added $2 trillion to their collective net worth, an average increase of nearly $3 billion each. 

To be clear, our proposal wouldn’t prevent the accumulation of extreme wealth. A household with 999 times median household wealth would not pay a nickel in additional tax. Our proposal addresses only the containment of “runaway wealth,” or wealth so great that living expenses and other non-tax factors don’t materially limit its growth.

That level of wealth accumulation isn’t just unnecessary – it’s dangerous. As the rich grow astronomically richer, the power accompanying their massive wealth will further destabilize our democracy. The only lasting solution is a narrowly-tailored tax that will shrink America’s concentration of wealth from its current democracy-threatening level, and constrain any future movement toward an aristocracy.  

Read more on economic inequality and its social effects:

Donald Trump Jr. claims to have “sacrificed a life of effortless privilege” to serve freedom

Donald Trump Junior claimed during an appearance at the Reawaken America Tour in Virginia Beach, Virginia on Saturday that he sacrificed a life of effortless privilege to serve the cause of freedom in the United States.

“Taking the easy route is easy,” Junior said. “It would have been easier, as I said, to just build buildings in New York, be loved by everyone, not get involved, not get in the game, but I couldn’t do that and live with myself, frankly. I believe in this stuff too much. I appreciate those freedoms.”

Prior to his father Donald Trump assuming the presidency in January 2017, Junior enjoyed the bountiful life of a billionaire trust fund heir. Having always sought to please and impress his cantankerous patriarch, Junior selflessly stepped in as the executive vice president and public face of the now-disgraced Trump Organization when his dad became the 45th commander in chief.

Junior has not, however, erected any structure in New York in his own right, nor has he used his fortune to empower underprivileged communities. The Trumps, furthermore, have a lousy reputation in their home city. And Junior’s subservience to the Big Lie that the 2020 election was stolen by President Joe Biden and the Left completely undercuts the idea that he champions democratic ideals. In fact, Junior has even boasted about how much assistance Trump’s 2016 presidential campaign – as well as the family’s real estate syndicate – accepted from Russia.

“In terms of high-end product influx into the US, Russians make up a pretty disproportionate cross-section of a lot of our assets,” he said in 2008.

Junior has bragged about “being a relatively good internet troll,” indicating that promoting truth and acting in good faith are distantly secondary to the Trump brand’s ambitions.

Thus, Junior’s history led to an outpouring of scorn on Twitter.

“Jr. was never ‘loved by everybody.’ And he wasn’t called to serve the American people. Is he running for something?” said David Badash of The New Civil Rights Movement.

“He could have taken the easy path? Maybe he can explain the hard path. Drop him into West Virginia and give him a coal shovel and a shack with no electricity or inside water,” a perplexed user wrote.

“Legacy coattails riding is more like it,” quipped another.

An observer shadily asked, “How exactly does Don Jr think he’s serving the American people? By trying to single-handedly reduce the global cocaine supply?”

A third person simply noted that the “guy who was born on third base and gone through life thinking he hit a triple.”

Someone else pointed out that “New Yorkers didn’t like any of them.”

Big Apple residents were not shy about their disdain either.

“As a Native New Yorker I know I speak for the many people in NYC. When the Trumps they say we love them my reply is… ‘no we facking don’t!'” one wrote. Why do you think they all absconded to Florida?

Additional questions ensued.

“Exactly what does he feel he was ‘called’ to do? Collecting money for guest appearances is not being ‘called’ to do anything. It’s lining your pockets,” an individual wondered aloud.

“Did he build any building?” a skeptical onlooker posited. “Seriously, I never heard he has accomplished anything.”

Army general suspended for mocking Jill Biden

A U.S. Army three-star general who was under contract as a consultant to the military after he retired has had his deal with Army suspended and is currently under investigation for a tweet mocking First Lady Jill Biden.

According to USA Today, Retired Lt. Gen. Gary Volesky, who previously served as the Army’s chief spokesperson, took a shot at Biden on Twitter after she commented on the Supreme Court’s controversial dismantling of Roe v.Wade.

After the first lady tweeted, “For nearly 50 years, women have had the right to make our own decisions about our bodies. Today, that right was stolen from us,” Volesky replied in a sneering post stating, “Glad to see you finally know what a woman is,” a reference to a question asked of newly-seated Supreme Court Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson during her Senate confirmation hearings by conservatives opposed to her seating.

According to the report, Volesky had agreed to a contract after he retired in 2020 that required him to advise active-duty officers at $92 per hour — but the contract is now on hold.

Alerted to the tweet, Lt. Gen. Theodore Martin of the Combined Arms Center pulled the plug on Volesky’s deal while an investigation is undertaken over whether he violated decorum rules for retired officers.

According to a report from Axios, this is not the first time the retired general has taken a shot at a woman on Twitter, with Axios reporting, “Volesky responded to a tweet from Rep. Liz Cheney (R-Wyo.) when she announced that she would be on the Jan. 6 select committee and that their ‘oath to the Constitution must be above partisan politics,'” with the retired officer replying, “This is all about partisan politics.”

Better late than never: Biden administration unveils new push for offshore wind

The Biden administration and 11 states on the East Coast are working together to accelerate the construction of offshore wind projects in the United States. For the last two decades, the U.S. has been lagging far behind Europe and Asia — in no small part because of opposition from the fossil fuel industry. Now, with a push from the federal and state level and growing investment from the private sector, the country may finally begin to close the gap.

Through a new initiative called the Federal-State Offshore Wind Implementation Partnership, Biden administration and governors from states where offshore wind projects exist or are in the works aim to expedite permitting processes, build the infrastructure and ships required to construct and maintain the offshore wind projects, and streamline the supply chain for the massive installations. The partnership currently includes Connecticut, Delaware, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New York, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, and Rhode Island. In time, the administration hopes to also include states along the Gulf and West Coasts, too.

In remarks announcing the initiative on Thursday, President Biden said, “I can’t tell you the last time I’ve been this excited about something we’re about to do, because I think we can change — literally begin to change — the nature of how we generate energy.”

The U.S. currently has the capacity to generate 42 megawatts of power from offshore wind. President Biden wants to increase capacity to 30,000 megawatts by 2030 — enough to power 10 million homes. In order to do that, the Department of Energy estimates the country will need 2,100 wind turbines, five to six specialized installation vessels (as well as a fleet of other support ships), and 6,800 miles of cable to get the electricity from the offshore sites to the cities that need it. Meeting these targets is critical to the U.S.’s goal of powering its electricity grid with clean energy by 2035.

There are several speedbumps slowing down progress, however, which the federal government and states hope to smooth out. One is issuing permits. The Biden administration has pledged to expedite environmental reviews and permit decisions for offshore wind projects, including 10 currently under consideration.

Another factor causing a bottleneck is the limited number of specialized ships capable of carrying the blades and other components for the turbines, which are taller than skyscrapers. There are just over 30 of these ships around the world. Now, the Biden administration has designated these ships as “vessels of national interest,” which means shipyards can apply for federal funds to update their facilities and build more of them.

I dismissed yellow summer squash as boring until it broke me out of burn out

My appreciation for most summer produce borders on veneration. If I close my eyes, even in the winter months, I can still conjure their more sensual qualities in my mind: the glossy curves of a tomato, the velvety weight of a peach, the way a perfectly ripe blackberry pops between teeth, leaving a sweet, inky stain on the tongue. Never once had I dreamt of yellow squash. 

I don't quite know when I developed the notion that yellow summer squash, with its tender skin and watery flesh, was dull, but that opinion stuck with me for quite a while. At least a few times every June or July, I'd buy some out of a sense of duty towards seasonal cooking, only to let them languish in my crisper drawer until their exterior was no longer taut and I'd have to hurriedly make use of them. The results, as you might imagine, were never great. There were far too many sautéed slices that went limp when they hit the plate, far too many "I'll just wing it!" plays on ratatouille. 

Those who love summer produce insist, often with some fanaticism, that it doesn't require much effort to transform their favorites into something that is almost transcendent. I often join their annual chorus: Give me lightly-salted tomato slices between white bread with a little spread of Duke's. Give me a nectarine that is screaming to simply be eaten over the basin of a kitchen sink. 

I think I somewhat resented yellow summer squash because, unlike its seasonal compatriots, it seemingly took too long to turn it into just . . . something

But this was the summer that everything changed because this was the summer nothing felt easy. 

I'm not sure if it was the multi-year pandemic, the crushing loss of bodily autonomy, or as Salon Food contributor Maggie Hennessy once put it, "ire about unfettered capitalism." I realized around mid-June, however, that I didn't feel quite like myself.

For weeks, a thick cloud of humidity hung in my apartment. No matter how many fans I strategically positioned or how often I futzed with the windows, the hot air just wouldn't move. It was an omnipresent representation of the stasis I felt all around me.

Friends and acquaintances and folks I follow on Instagram were all seemingly unburdened by it. They were busy drinking gorgeous little cocktails, lying out at the shore or posting photo dumps from Italy. (I swear, half of America is in Italy right now.)

"Summer should be easy," I texted a friend. 

"You're burned out," she said. "And you'll stay burned out because you don't even know how to take a weekend."

She was right, of course. I was burned out. I am burned out. Coming of age at a time when side gigs were a given and hustle was a virtue, I'm great at telling those I love to give themselves a break, but I often struggle with classifying rest for myself as a luxury. I wouldn't say I dream of labor, but I also don't know how to escape it. 


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My friend shares this hang-up, and we complained a little back and forth until our usual evening sign-off: "Make yourself a good dinner." I jokingly told her I was between grocery visits, but I would try. I began to gather ingredients for a throw-together meal: most of a sleeve of bucatini, a lone strip of bacon, half an onion, some shaved parmesan. Pushing aside prep bags of cabbage and kale, I dug into the crisper drawer, and there was my annual summer squash purchase — two yellow straight-necks, still fresh from my last supermarket trip. 

Surveying the spread of ingredients, I thought back to two pasta recipes I've enjoyed making: Ali Slagle's caramelized zucchini pasta and Alison Roman's caramelized shallot pasta. "If zucchini can caramelize, why not yellow squash, especially if there are some onions in the pan to help it along the way?"

I put a few glugs of olive oil and a pat of butter in a skillet. While it melted, I grated the squash and roughly chopped the onions. Then, I let the mixture cook over low heat, pushing it with the back of a wooden spoon around the skillet every 10 minutes or so. Within 20 minutes, the squash had transformed. Its pliable yellow and white shreds had deepened to a honey color, and what vegetal sweetness they have was notably deepened. 

Within 40 minutes, I was eating the caramelized squash out of the pan with my spoon. 

Once I'd taken the squash off the heat, I boiled the pasta and added it to the skillet, as well (after draining it). A mix of pasta water and whole-milk yogurt helped the squash coat the bucatini like a velvety sauce. I topped it with a little crisp bacon, chives and parmesan. Let me tell you something: that bowl of pasta was just as transcendent as a peak-season tomato sandwich or sink nectarine. 

The irony is not lost on me that in order to get there, the squash just needed a little nurturing. It needed a little time and patience. Ultimately, it needed to rest relatively undisturbed, save for the occasional stirring.

I sent my friend a photo of the dish with the caption: "Maybe I just need to treat myself like a good summer squash." Even if it's not the solution, it's a start.

Read more

about fresh summer produce

Summer corn and fresh blueberries meet in this decadent cannabis-infused frozen dessert

The cannabis-infused ice cream base used in this recipe pairs nicely with a strain high in pinene (or a-pinene), such as Northern Lights, to accentuate the fresh aromatic flavor of the thyme. The richness of the ice cream complements the pungently sweet, earthy, and piney flavors of this popular cannabis strain.

Suggested dosage: approximately 5 milligrams of THC per serving; approximately 50 milligrams THC per batch.

SWEET CORN ICE CREAM
with Brown Sugar Crumble and Wild Blueberries
Yields
5 cups
Prep Time
15 minutes
Cook Time
90 minutes, plus freezing

Ingredients

SWEET CORN ICE CREAM BASE
2 cups (14% milk fat) heavy cream, preferably grass-fed
2 cups whole milk, preferably organic
1 cup organic cane sugar
4 sprigs fresh thyme
11/2 teaspoons kosher salt
11/2 cups fresh organic corn kernels, cut from approximately 2 large ears of corn, reserving the cobs
1.75 grams (half-eighth) cannabis flower, finely ground, testing at 27–28% THC (see note below)

BROWN SUGAR CRUMBLE
Makes 2 cups
1/2 cup organic dark brown sugar, packed
1/2 cup coconut flour
1/4 cup rice flour
1/3 cup cold unsalted butter, preferably grass-fed, cut into small pieces

WILD BLUEBERRIES
Makes 11/2 cups
11/2 cups wild blueberries, washed and stems removed
11/2 tablespoons organic cane sugar, or to taste
Zest and juice of 1 lemon
3 fresh mint leaves, chopped
 


 

 

Directions

  1. To make the sweet corn ice cream base: In a heavy-bottomed saucepan, bring the cream, milk, sugar, thyme, and salt to just under boiling, whisking occasionally, over medium heat, about 20 minutes. Remove the ice cream base from the heat. Add the corn kernels, reserved cobs, and cannabis, into a large shallow pan. Carefully pour the base into the pan and allow to steep for 1 hour at room temperature. Cover with plastic wrap, gently pressing directly onto the surface of the mixture, and refrigerate overnight. Note: The wide base and shallow sides of the pan allow the ice cream base to cool more quickly.
  2. Using tongs, remove the corn cobs and thyme from the base and discard. Whisk the ice cream base until well combined. Transfer half of the ice cream base to a food processor or blender and purée until smooth. Return the puréed ice cream base to the pan with the remaining mixture, stirring to combine well. Pour the ice cream base into a cold ice cream maker bowl, filling the machine no more than three-quarters of the way. Churn just until the ice cream is thick, about the consistency of soft-serve ice cream. Transfer to the freezer and freeze according to the manufacturer’s directions.
  3. To make the brown sugar crumble: While the ice cream is left to harden in the freezer, start the brown sugar crumble. Preheat the oven to 375°F. In the bowl of a food processor, combine the sugar and flours. Work in the butter, a few pieces at a time, and continue to pulse until the mixture is crumbly and forms pea-size lumps. Note: If working in a humid area, you may need to add a few drops of ice water to the crumble mixture. Bake on a quarter-sized baking sheet or in a medium oven-safe skillet in the oven, stirring occasionally, until golden brown, about 8 minutes. Set aside.
  4. To prepare the wild blueberries: In a small bowl, gently toss the blueberries, sugar, lemon zest, lemon juice and mint until well combined. Set aside.
  5. To serve: Scoop the ice cream into bowls and top each serving with brown sugar crumble and blueberries.

     

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