Wednesday, September 23, 2026
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The president gave a speech to the United Nations General Assembly yesterday. It was the kind of speech that rewards listeners with a migraine so bad that they have to lie down for half an hour afterward with a cold pack pressed to their foreheads. Esquire political columnist Charles P. Pierce unpacks the whole affair at the link below. —Chris Hatler, deputy editor
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The president said he’s leading the world into a future of “super intelligence,” but it sure sounded like the opposite.
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The United Nations General Assembly is a great audience for megalomaniacs. After all, in a very real sense, the entire world is in attendance to listen to you. For example, on October 1, 1975, Idi Amin Dada spoke to the GA. In his own incredibly twisted mind, the president of Uganda had come to defend generations of Africans victimized by European colonialism, an appeal based only on his own perceived eminence among the African nations.
On Tuesday, the president of the United States came to the UN to speak to the General Assembly. He warmed up by berating Kaitlan Collins of CNN. Once inside the chamber, he cast himself astride the world, the uncrowned king of Greenland and the Western Hemisphere. He treated the UN as though it were a rally crowd in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, rambling on twice about “transgender mutilization.” Added to this usual spiel was a robust, and occasionally coherent, endorsement of the full AI agenda.
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There are plenty of gym bags that can carry a laptop, and there are a handful of laptop bags that could double as gym bags. Hell, there are plenty of work bags you can shove your stinky, worn-out sneakers into if you really want to. None of this is a revelation, but it’s also not a revelation to say none of them actually excel at pulling double duty.
The problem is that most bags are designed for one of these pursuits first. That’s fine if you care about the gym more than work or vice versa, but who actually thinks like that? If you’re going straight from work to the gym, you either carry two bags or you wind up cramming your laptop, shorts, shoes, water bottle, and whatever else you need into one giant compartment.
The answer? It’s the Stubble & Co Kit Bag, specifically the 30-liter version.
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Think of the quintessenn Quechua, “aya” means spirit or corpse, while “waska” means rope. To make drinkable ayahuasca, you need two different plants. Plant One: Chacruna, an uninteresting, leafy green plant, that looks like something you’d ignore at West Elm before finding out it contained the psychoactive substance known as DMT, and Plant Two: Banisteriopsis caapi, an eerie vine that grows up to 98 feet long, wrapping itself around the branches of other trees like a snake. This second plant contains no psychoactive component but instead comes with an MAO inhibitor called harmine, which acts as a lubricant, allowing Plant One’s DMT to cross the blood-brain barrier and cause us to trip.
The thought of tripping didn’t scare me, but other things did. The losing yourself parts, mainly. I’ve heard stories about people walking out on their ten-year marriages, tying a clothing bindle to a stick, and galavanting off to Thailand to work on a coconut farm, erasing whoever else they otherwise might have been.
The retreat would take up an entire weekend, consisting of two separate “ceremonies” with four to six hours of drug consumption, trip, and recovery—where the expectation, as I understood it, was for each individual to lose their mind just so they could put it back together. I was skeptical. The whole ordeal sounded like yet another trend adopted by millennials looking for purpose. But I was also desperate, and dizzy.
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