Before barreling through what he dismisses as his loser, low-energy, blood-coming-out-of-their-whatever opposition and shaking up politics as usual, Donald Trump was trying to shake the high holy shit out of professional football. He was just 37—a budding rogue rich guy with flyaway sandy (not yet orange) hair and a trophy first wife named Ivana. He'd just built a 68-story glass tower in the middle of Manhattan and, to make sure people noticed, put his name on it. In bronze. He'd soon open his first Atlantic City casino, slapping his name on that, too. Even back then, Trump wanted what he still wants most: more. So in 1983 he bought a football team, joining a confederacy of other rich rogues who had just completed their first season of the United States Football League. The business plan: compete with the NFL—sport's one true, grim superpower, whom USFL owners mocked as the No Fun League—but not directly against it. The USFL collapsed after just three seasons. Yet its Trumpian storyline hews eerily close to today's. The Donald made a media-inhaling, savior-is-born entrance; surged beyond expectations; then went all in on his attempt to upend the entrenched NFL by pushing his fellow owners to move games to the fall in hopes of inciting a merger. The bet brought the league, already in failing health, crashing down. |
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The question "still or sparkling?" has only one correct answer. Given the option, I will always opt for a little fizz in my water. Why go with flat when you can have a little fun with it, right? Bubbles are the way. The only way. Enter the Aerflo Aer1, an ingenious little water bottle that slips easily into a bag and sits comfortably in a car cup holder. It's lightweight, durable, and no slouch to look at, either. Hidden inside the lid is a tiny carbon dioxide container that lets you transform four bottles' worth of boring water into beautiful, effervescent, sparkling water. It's my new on-the-go companion. If you like bubbles, it should be yours, too. |
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The decline of good bars has, I believe, led to the renewed popularity of private member clubs, where you can actually speak in measured tones (and the best gossip should be trafficked in close confidence). At bars and restaurants, there are bad acoustics and worse music. People must scream to make themselves heard. All that's left—and really all that you feel—is revelers barking at the top of their voices and the pulsing beat. Good grief. I realize I sound like my grandfather—these kids with their TikToks! Complaining about loud bars certainly ages me. When you're opposing youngsters, you fear you look like you're living in a black-and-white film criticizing the Beatles. But as a man staring down 50, I'm not going to take advice from a generation raised on Red Bull and vodka. Age helps wine, whisky, and, I believe, appreciation of the enduring traditions that underlie a good place to drink them. |
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Sometimes the world can be a frightening place, even for us grown-ups. Illness and death, violence and disasters can shatter our sense of security. For kids, who live in a magical world where good guys always win and endings are happy, these events can shake them to their core. When tragedy strikes, parents and other adults play a crucial role in helping children make sense of tough moments, find comfort, and build resilience. Our job as parents and "helpers" is to give them a tool kit to help them weather life's storms. Here's how. When kids feel anxious or afraid, we naturally want to offer comforting explanations or reassurances. That is an important part of our job, but a good rule is that before offering advice or distractions, start with empathy. |
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When I told friends of my fasting ambitions, there were no neutral reactions. Some were intrigued, others aghast that I thought I could handle it. A few were infuriated. "Why would you want to do that?" they asked. I kept the reasons to myself: a sense of clarity, losing weight, certainly, and a desire for some reset away from New York where discipline can be hard to come by. So in late November, I arrived at Buchinger Wilhelmi, where I would spend eleven nights (and eat nearly nothing on Thanksgiving). For seven of those days, I would consume only liquids. The experience took me to some strange places. I didn't flee the clinic, but my mind certainly did, and I fantasized about food I couldn't eat (including, for some reason, dim sum) and the beer I couldn't taste until—halfway through—I achieved my own version of enlightenment. |
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If I asked you to pick Severance's defining episode, what would you say? The pilot episode is an instant classic. I bet some of you would cite season 1, episode 7, "Defiant Jazz." (Which is certainly the most-memed episode, at least.) "The We We Are," AKA the season 1 finale, is definitely up there, too. Until now, anyway. I feel confident in writing that season 2, episode 4, "Woe's Hollow," is what "Fishes" is to The Bear. Season 2, episode 6 of the FX culinary drama also told a story that 1/ Left the sterile confines of the show's normal setting (i.e. the kitchen), 2/ Arrived in the middle of the even-better-than-the-first sophomore season, and 3/ Hammered home the show's emotional throughline. Kudos to Ben Stiller for his stellar direction of this episode. |
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