Generation Jones: The Party Was Over Before We Got There
For years, I’d hear about the Baby Boomers—the generation that had it all. The post-war prosperity, the social revolutions, the “Summer of Love,” Woodstock, the whole damn thing. And for years, I’d nod along, politely ignoring the fact that I didn’t remember any of it.
Because the thing is, I was born in the late fifties. And according to the standard generational charts, that makes me a Boomer.
Except it doesn’t. Not really.
The Generation That Got Overlooked
There’s this term you might have heard recently: Generation Jones . Coined back in 1999 by cultural commentator Jonathan Pontell, it refers to those of us born roughly between 1954 and 1965—the tail-end of the Baby Boom that got lumped in with our older siblings but didn’t share their experience .
And let me tell you, the difference is night and day.
While the older Boomers were dropping out and tuning in, we were doing our homework. While they were protesting Vietnam, we were watching The Brady Bunch . They had JFK, MLK, and the thrill of actual social change. We had Watergate, gas lines, and the creeping cynicism of the 1970s .
As journalist Jennifer Finney Boylan put it: “If the zeitgeist of the boomers was optimism and revolution, the vibe of Gen Jones was cynicism and disappointment” .
The Economic Reality Check
Here’s where it really stings. We grew up being told we’d inherit the world. All that post-war prosperity, all those opportunities—they were ours for the taking. Except by the time we got there, the party was over.
The older Boomers filled the good jobs, the senior positions, the pensions that were disappearing. When Generation Jones came of age, we hit the workforce during one of the worst economic periods since the Great Depression . Interest rates on mortgages hit 18 percent . The unemployment rate soared .
A study from the Center for Retirement Research at Boston College found that late Boomers—us Jonesers—have significantly less wealth than our older counterparts. The Great Recession hit us particularly hard, and unlike the early Boomers, our employment rates never fully rebounded .
We’re the first generation that had to rely on 401(k)s instead of fixed pensions. And we’re retiring into uncertainty while our older siblings sit on their housing equity and defined-benefit plans .
A Generation Defined by Missing Out
The name “Jones” itself captures the feeling. It references “keeping up with the Joneses” and the slang “jonesing”—that craving, that yearning for what you don’t have .
We were the latchkey kids . The children of divorce. The ones who watched the cultural revolutions on TV but were too young to participate. We didn’t have fathers who were WWII veterans—our parents were the Silent Generation, and they were as confused as we were .
We had disco and punk. The Clash, not the Beatles . “Star Wars,” not Woodstock . And somewhere along the way, we developed this deep skepticism of government and authority that’s never really left .
So Where Does That Leave Us?
We’re too young to be Boomers, too old to be Gen X. We’re the middle child of generations, perpetually overlooked .
We’re pragmatic but cynical. We had idealism once, but reality beat it out of us . We learned to survive, to adapt, to keep our heads down and push forward. And while the Boomers are blamed for everything from the housing crisis to avocado toast (wait, that’s not right), we just quietly muddle through.
Generation Jones isn’t just a label. It’s recognition that not all Boomers are the same. It’s an acknowledgement that 18 years is too long for a single generation, and the kids born in the 1960s had a fundamentally different experience than the ones born in the 1940s.
We didn’t get the good stuff. We got the leftovers.
But hey—we got Star Wars. So there’s that.
Why do men like Thai women?
So, I am single and I don’t really have too many restrictions on the women that I date. Today, I met a woman from Michigan, my home state, here in Thailand.
Before we could go on a date she sent me text messages with these questions:
- How do you feel about the genocide in Gaza?
- What is your stance on Donald Trump?
- What do you think of the Jeffrey Epstein files?
- Do you find it outrageous that 80,000 Palestinians have been killed?
- What is your political affiliation?
Meanwhile, I went on several dates with a Thai woman and she only asked me what beer we should order at a restaurant and suggested places I should visit in the countryside.
When we went back to my hotel, she cleaned the room before she left.
I didn’t ask for this, but she did it anyway.
Yesterday, I woke up, and although I hadn’t seen her in a while, I found that I’d received a package from her that she mailed all the way to Phuket with Thai snacks inside.
She mailed that stuff to me just because she thought it might make me happy and without any expectation of anything in return.
She was right, it made me happy.
(Photo by author)
Baby Boomers Blame Us For A World THEY Ruined
There’s a photo from 1936 showing Hitler walking alongside young Helga Goebbels, and it’s become one of the most haunting images connected to him, not for what it shows in the moment, but for what we know happened to her less than a decade later.
Hitler reportedly had genuine fondness for the Goebbels children, and Helga in particular was said to be something of a favorite of his. But that closeness didn’t protect her from the horror that would ultimately be inflicted on her by her own parents in the war’s final days.
As the Nazi regime collapsed in the spring of 1945, Magda Goebbels became convinced that she and her children needed to die alongside the collapse of the ideology she’d devoted herself to. Despite offers made to help get the children to safety, she refused all of them.
Her plan was to sedate her children with morphine first, and once they were unconscious, administer cyanide by crushing capsules between their teeth. On April 30, 1945, just one day after Hitler’s own suicide, Magda carried this plan out with help from an SS doctor. A few hours after her children’s deaths, she and her husband Joseph Goebbels took their own lives as well.
What makes Helga’s death especially disturbing is that, according to later evidence, the morphine either didn’t fully sedate her or wore off too quickly. At some point, she apparently became aware of what was happening to her siblings and, understandably, resisted having the same thing done to her.
An autopsy conducted after Soviet forces took the bunker, along with photographic evidence, later revealed significant bruising on her body and a broken jaw, physical evidence consistent with a real struggle, suggesting she fought against being forced to swallow the cyanide in her final moments, rather than the peaceful death her mother had intended to carry out.
French Baguette (No Knead Method)
There is something really wonderful about baking you own bread.
For a bit less than a year I have gotten into the habit of baking Fresh Baguettes a few times a week. The secret? With this recipe, you are able to refrigerate the dough up to 10 days: The longer the dough stays in the fridge the more flavorful and airy baguette you will have. Bonus: This is a no knead method!
Enjoy & Bon Appétit!
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French Baguette (No Knead Method)
Ingredients
FRENCH BAGUETTES (NO KNEAD METHOD) MAKES 4
- 3 2/3 cups (500 g) all-purpose flour
- 1 2/3 cups (375 g) Bottled Water (Lukewarm)
- 1 Tbsp (10 g) instant yeast
- 1 1/2 tsp (10 g) Sea Salt
Instructions
DOUGH PREPARATION
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In your mixing bowl, whisk the flour and sea salt together. Make a well and add the water and instant yeast. Gently stir inwards going outwards with your spatula. The dough does not need to be smooth.
RISE
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Loosely cover and let it rise at room temperature for 2 hours.
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Cover with a cling film and refrigerate until use. The dough is good up to 15 days.
BAKE!
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Preheat oven to 465F/240C with an empty metal tray on the lower rack.
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Place your Silform® Bread Tray on the top of your Medium Perforated Baking Sheet.
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Take your dough out of the refrigerator and with the bowl scraper, divide the dough into 4 directly onto your Silform®. Dust a bit of flour on top and with a sharp knife, score each baguette.
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Place your French Baguettes on the middle rack of your oven and pour 1 cup of water in the empty metal rack to create steam. Bake at 465F/240C for 25 minutes or more (if you like your bread well done).
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Once your Baguettes are out of the oven, let them cool down as is. Enjoy with French EVOO or jam. Bon Appétit!
YouTube Video
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Nutrition
Costco, Walmart & Target Are Making BIG Changes… And It’s Not a Good Sign
What are some of the weirdest ways people died?
In 2005, a 35 year old man named Robert Darmer decided to take a solo trip to a clothing optional resort located deep inside Death Valley. But unfortunately, Robert took a wrong turn and his Volkswagen camper van got stuck in a dry salt lake bed.
With no way to call for help and no one in sight, Robert decided to wait near the van. For days no one came and his water supply began running low. Fortunately for Robert, a group of British hikers who were practicing search and rescue in the same area spotted him, pulled him to safety and drove him 80 miles to the nearest ranger station.
In most cases this should have been the end of story, but for Robert, it wasn’t. A few days after recovering, Robert decided he could fix his van and get it out himself.
So he took a lift from a couple who dropped him off what he believed was half a mile away from the resort where he originally intended to go. His plan was to cover the last stretch on foot and then get help from someone at the resort to retrieve his van.
However, Robert had miscalculated once again. He had actually been dropped off 15 miles away from the resort. With no signal in the area, Robert was stranded for a second time in a matter of days. This time no one was able to save him and his body was found a few days later.
The desert gave Robert a chance to live, but the second time it wasn’t so generous.
Easy Rustic Italian Crusty Bread Recipe for Beginners
There’s something incredibly comforting about baking bread at home, especially when that bread is Rustic Italian Crusty Bread. Imagine pulling a golden-brown loaf from the oven, its crust crackling as you slice into it, revealing a soft, steamy interior. It’s the kind of warm hug you didn’t know you needed. The aroma fills your kitchen, wrapping you in a scent that screams “I love carbs!”
This Rustic Italian Crusty Bread not only brings joy to your palate but also offers a delightful sense of accomplishment. Whether enjoyed slathered with butter or paired with a robust soup, this bread is perfect for any occasion, transforming mundane meals into something extraordinary. The anticipation of that first bite is enough to make your taste buds dance with excitement!
Why You’ll Love This Rustic Italian Crusty Bread
- This incredible Rustic Italian Crusty Bread transforms simple everyday ingredients into restaurant-quality flavors that will blow your mind completely.
- Foolproof recipe techniques guarantee perfect results every single time, making even novice cooks feel like professional chefs instantly.
- Stunning visual appeal with gorgeous colors and mouthwatering aromas creates the ultimate Instagram-worthy dish for any special occasion.
- Endlessly adaptable for different dietary needs while working beautifully for meal prep, date nights, or entertaining large groups effortlessly.
Ingredients for Rustic Italian Crusty Bread
Here’s what you’ll need to make this delicious Rustic Italian Crusty Bread:
3.25 cups all-purpose flour – A versatile and essential ingredient, choose unbleached flour for the best flavor and texture.
1 tsp sea salt – Enhances the bread’s flavor, ensuring you get that delightful savory kick with every bite.
1.5 cups warm water – Important for activating yeast; make sure it’s warm, but not too hot, to keep the yeast alive.
2 tsp instant yeast – This magical ingredient helps your dough rise quickly and easily, giving you that fluffy interior.
How to Make Rustic Italian Crusty Bread
Follow these simple steps to prepare this delicious Rustic Italian Crusty Bread:
Step 1: Combine Dry Ingredients
In a large mixing bowl, add the all-purpose flour, sea salt, and instant yeast. Whisk it all together until it resembles a sandy beach, free of lumps and full of potential.
Step 2: Mix in the Water
Pour in the warm water and embrace your inner hand-mixer. Use a spatula or your trusty wooden spoon to blend until it forms a shaggy, sticky dough. Don’t worry about getting it too neat; rustic is part of the charm!
Step 3: Let It Rise
Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and a clean tea towel. Set your dough aside at room temperature for 2 to 3 hours. It should double in size, puffing up like a little doughy balloon, ready for its moment in the oven!
Step 4: Shape the Dough
Once the dough has risen, lightly flour your counter and carefully dump the dough onto it. Flour your hands to prevent sticking and gently fold the dough onto itself several times, forming a sloppy ball. It doesn’t need to be perfect; perfection isn’t rustic!
Step 5: Score the Dough
Using a sharp knife, make a few shallow cuts on top of the loaf. This is both practical and decorative; it allows the dough to expand beautifully while baking.
Step 6: Preheat the Oven
While your dough rests on a floured pizza peel or parchment paper, preheat your oven to 450°F (about 232°C) with a pizza stone inside for about 45 minutes. For a steamy environment (which crusts love), place an oven-proof bowl filled with water on the bottom rack.
Step 7: Bake to Perfection
When your oven is ready to go, sprinkle some semolina flour or cornmeal on the baking surface. Carefully slide your loaf onto the hot pizza stone and bake for about 30 to 45 minutes. You’re looking for a golden-brown crust that’ll tempt even the most skeptical bread-hater.
Step 8: Cooling Time
Remove the bread from the oven and transfer it to a cooling rack. Allow it to cool completely before slicing—if you can resist the urge to take a sneaky slice while it’s still hot. Serve it up as an accompaniment to your favorite dish or simply enjoy it warm with some butter.
Now, how easy was that? You’ve made your very own Rustic Italian Crusty Bread right from scratch! You can relish it fresh out of the oven or use it in numerous recipes, be it for sandwiches or simply for some good old-fashioned toast with jam. Enjoy every bite and celebrate your newfound baking prowess!
This showstopping Rustic Italian Crusty Bread delivers restaurant-quality results using simple ingredients you probably already have at home. The perfect balance of textures and flavors creates an unforgettable dining experience that will have everyone asking for seconds. Picture-perfect presentation with vibrant colors makes this dish absolutely Instagram-worthy and guaranteed to impress any dinner guest. Incredibly versatile recipe that works beautifully for weeknight dinners, meal prep, special occasions, or even outdoor entertaining sessions.
Perfecting Rustic Italian Crusty Bread Cooking Process
Start by gathering your ingredients: flour, salt, yeast, and warm water. Mix the dry ingredients first, then add the warm water for a soft, sticky dough. Let it rise for maximum flavor, shape it, and bake with a water bath for a crust that’s simply irresistible.
Add Your Touch to Rustic Italian Crusty Bread
Feel free to experiment with different types of flour, like whole wheat or a blend of grains. Add herbs such as rosemary or thyme for a herby twist, or toss in some cheese for extra flavor and richness. The possibilities are endless!
Storing & Reheating Rustic Italian Crusty Bread
Store any leftovers in a paper bag at room temperature for 1-2 days or freeze for longer storage. To reheat, wrap the bread in foil and warm it in a preheated oven until crispy to preserve that perfect crust.
Chef’s Helpful Tips for Rustic Italian Crusty Bread
- This professional-quality Rustic Italian Crusty Bread relies on precise timing and temperature control to achieve restaurant-standard results consistently.
- Master the art of mise en place by prepping all ingredients beforehand, ensuring smooth execution and preventing any last-minute cooking disasters.
- The secret lies in layering flavors throughout the cooking process rather than seasoning only at the end for maximum depth.
- Pro tip: let the finished dish rest for optimal texture and flavor development before serving to hungry guests waiting eagerly.
Creating this bread brings back memories of my grandmother’s kitchen, where the aroma of freshly baked loaves wrapped around us like a warm hug. She always said the secret ingredient was love, and I couldn’t agree more.
FAQs About Rustic Italian Crusty Bread
What is Rustic Italian Crusty Bread?
Rustic Italian Crusty Bread is a traditional type of bread that features a beautifully crunchy exterior and a light, airy interior. The artistry lies in its simplicity, relying on just a few key ingredients like flour, water, salt, and yeast. This bread is often characterized by its slightly chewy texture and a subtle, tangy flavor. The crust is achieved through a high-temperature baking process and the addition of steam, creating that signature crispy exterior beloved by many.
How do I achieve a perfect crust on Rustic Italian Crusty Bread?
To achieve the perfect crust on your Rustic Italian Crusty Bread, preheat your oven to a high temperature, around 450°F, and use a pizza stone if available. Adding an oven-proof bowl filled with water to your oven creates steam, which enhances the crust’s crispiness. Make a few slashes on the top of the loaf just before baking to allow steam to escape and create an aesthetically pleasing shape. These techniques combined result in a beautifully crusty bread that looks as great as it tastes.
Can I add flavors to Rustic Italian Crusty Bread?
Absolutely! One of the joys of baking Rustic Italian Crusty Bread is the opportunity to customize it to your liking. You can incorporate a variety of flavors such as herbs like rosemary or thyme, or even add chunks of cheese like parmesan. Nuts and seeds can also be sprinkled into the dough for extra texture and flavor. Don’t be afraid to get creative and experiment with your favorite ingredients to make this bread your own.
How should I store leftover Rustic Italian Crusty Bread?
To store leftover Rustic Italian Crusty Bread, wrap it in a paper bag at room temperature for up to two days. This method helps maintain its crunchy crust while keeping the inside fresh. If you want to keep it for an extended period, consider freezing it. Slice the bread before freezing, wrap it tightly in plastic wrap, and place it in a freezer bag. When you’re ready to enjoy it, simply reheat it in the oven to restore its delightful crust.
Conclusion for Rustic Italian Crusty Bread
In conclusion, mastering Rustic Italian Crusty Bread is a rewarding culinary experience that everyone can enjoy. With just a handful of simple ingredients and some patience, you can create a crusty loaf that elevates any meal. Whether you’re serving it with a hearty stew or enjoying it as a standalone snack, this bread is bound to impress. Don’t forget to experiment with flavors and personal touches. There’s nothing quite like the taste of freshly baked Rustic Italian Crusty Bread made with love!
Easy Rustic Italian Crusty Bread Recipe for Beginners
Ingredients
Equipment
Method
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In a large mixing bowl, add the flour, salt, and yeast. Mix to combine well.
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Pour in the warm water and mix until a soft, sticky dough has formed.
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Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and a tea towel. Allow the dough to rise at room temperature for 2 to 3 hours until doubled in size.
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Sprinkle flour on the kitchen counter and dump the dough onto it. Flour your hands and fold the dough onto itself to form a round ball.
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Make a few cuts on top of the loaf with a sharp knife.
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Place the dough on a floured pizza peel, cardboard, or parchment paper and allow it to rest while the oven preheats.
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Preheat your oven to 450°F with a pizza stone inside for about 45 minutes. Fill an oven-proof bowl with water and place it on the bottom rack.
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Once the oven is hot, sprinkle the pizza stone with semolina flour or cornmeal and carefully slide the bread on top. Bake for about 30 to 45 minutes until golden brown and cooked through.
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Transfer the bread to a cooling rack and let it cool completely before slicing.
Nutrition
Notes
15 Chinese School Lunch Features That Would Shut Down American Cafeterias
This is really good. I think that it says ALOT. I watched it three times!
The USA is in BIG Trouble
What’s one thing about older cars that modern cars still haven’t matched?
Back when I lived in Ft. Myers, I had a friend who drove a 1969 Alfa Romeo Spider.
(Not this one, but one just like it.)
When he went out at night, women would ask him if they could sit in it. My girlfriend at the time was one of them.
Other than an exotic supercar, few modern cars have that effect. This car got attention and turned heads.
It wasn’t mechanically that great; I think people in their twenties and thirties today who’ve never driven a car from the 60s or 70s don’t fully grasp how primitive they were or how much automotive technology changed since then.
But cars today have no style. They’ve converged on the same bland, boring shapes. You can argue they’ve converged on the most aerodynamic shape, but I don’t think that’s entirely true; I think car makers, once they became Wall Street entities or got bought out by private equity firms, quit wanting to spend money on symbolists and designers. If you pay a stylist $100,000 a year, that’s $100,000 that can’t go into the pocket of the CEO of Stellantis NV, the Netherlands corporation that owns the Chrysler brand.
Modern cars and SUVs pretty much look the same except for the front grille, which is the last place automotive engineers are allowed to do anything interesting, thus giving us occasional catastrophic design fails like this ugly-ass Lexus monstrosity:
The head of what passes for the Lexus design team, Kevin Hunter, said in an interview:
[The grille] is our brand identity, it’s our aim to make it attractive of course, and the LF-1 is the next step in its evolution. We call it ‘architectural spindle’.
“You notice as the perimeter shape transitions up, it turns into into a pretty distinctive hood shape that has a channel, that runs all the way though the belt-line, and even the DRL runs the perimeter of the hood shape. Everything is integrated into one architectural piece.”
This is not someone who could ever design an Alfa Romeo Spider or a Karmann Ghia or a 67 Corvette. The grille design is the company’s entire brand? Wow.
Sunk Cost Fallacy
Nicholas Andrew Clark
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2 comments
This story contains themes or mentions of mental health issues.
Written in response to: “Write a story about the aftermath of someone’s sacrifice.“ as part of Lost, Then Found with A. Y. Chao.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spots me. It’s a rivet popping loose from a hull. A storm cloud turning a darker shade of gray. I can read his lips but wish I couldn’t — Nick? Oh my God. You’re alive! He marches up to me and grabs me by the shoulders, rips me out of Talei’s grasp into a hug that crushes my ribs. More words echo in his chest. I peel away and point at my ears.
“Burst from the pressure,” I say out loud. The words scorch the roof of my mouth.
His face is ashen. A master of performative empathy. Reptilian hazel eyes slide in the direction of my girlfriend. “I’m William. Nick’s old boss. Afraid I didn’t catch your name, Miss…?”
She introduces herself and says of course she knows who he is. Not because I told her anything; he’s just that famous. I might throw up on his loafers.
“I owe my life to your man here. I’m sure he told you all about it.” Before she can answer he has his guy stick a camera in our faces. Sidles up like a game show host presenting the winning couple. The rapid-fire exchange between him and his crew is too quick for me to read, but if experience is any indicator, he’s seizing control. Delegating before anyone can object. I can tell by the flush of Talei’s cheeks — he’s disarmed her with a compliment. Co-opted her birthday dinner for a joint celebration of life.
“We’ll think about it, okay?” I say in what I hope is a flat tone. I take Talei by the arm and start to extract her, but she battles me. I don’t make a habit of forcing her to do things. Her sign nearly capsizes me entirely.
Don’t be rude.
*
It starts with flickering red lights. Deep groans of straining metal. The clank of the containment chamber door. My oxygen tank, the last one onboard that’s still functional. The sheer animal panic on William’s face, all his wealth and assets and achievements made meaningless with a single wave of his hand, a simple miscalculation. That’s all. Just a little more than she could handle. He did buy it used. Should’ve sprung for a new one.
When I tell him to take the tank, it isn’t gratitude that fills his eyes — it’s resentment. Nevermind that I warned him about using up his O2 while scuba diving. Nevermind that he took the sub into the trench despite my repeated objections. Now I get to die a hero’s death, and he’ll be forced to feign appreciation over it. Forever. How dare I saddle him with such an albatross of feelings.
He stands in the chamber and the mouth-read is unmistakable: “No fucking DUH, pal.”
Then his trail of bubbles dissipates into the dark. A loud bang as the sub rolls. Pressure that builds and builds and builds — unimaginable pulverizing weight — until it spikes and shoves two agonizing blades into both sides of my skull.
That’s usually when I start to scream.
*
The intimate dinner I’d planned is now an Americanized magiti spectacle. Instead of Talei’s dining room, William somehow wrangled the chief into letting us use the vale levu communal house, with me slaving away in the back. Probably by offering several pallets of kava instead of the usual single bag.
His crew strung up fairy lights and lit overpriced candles. Set out table cloths and chairs. Replaced the traditional bamboo platters with plates and flatware. Invited the whole village. Two fish has turned into twenty. One bottle of rum is now four cases. This is what he does. Scales everything up and ignores the sweat, blood, and tears it costs to meet the demand.
Somehow, I make it work. While the tavioka cubes are curing in ceramic bowls of lime juice, I dice the onions, cucumber, and cherry tomatoes like a machine. I get a village kid to fetch some pawpaws from the grove to julienne for a tart counterpoint to the coconut cream. The finishing touch is grated ginger from Talei’s mom’s garden, fresher than anything available at the market.
While the chief leads everyone in prayer, Talei steals a glance at me and smirks. This looks beautiful.
Almost as beautiful as you. Happy Birthday.
Her smile loses a few watts when she recognizes my distress. She squeezes at me and I do my best to reassure her, but all I can smell is that fucking Creed Aventus. All I can see is William’s sterile grin of veneers as he lights up the chief with another bullshit anecdote. Once everyone’s had their kava and their plates are full and waiting, he gets to his feet.
“Allow me to take a moment to express my deepest heartfelt thanks to this community. Not only for welcoming me and my crew with open arms, but for taking such excellent care of Nick, our brilliant chef.
“As many of you may know, seven months ago Nick and I chartered a submarine to the depths of the Somosomo Strait. When we reached the Great White Wall, he warned me that going into the trench would be dangerous, but of course I didn’t listen. I ended up running us into a cliff, and the sub suffered a catastrophic leak.”
William presses his lips together firmly. Nods as if admonishing his past self. I have to bite back a scoff of laughter at the pair of crocodile tears creasing his crow’s feet.
“I was a victim of my own hubris. But Nick insisted I take the last oxygen tank and swim to the surface, leaving him alone on a sinking vessel. At a depth I believed at the time would be fatal.”
Every eyeball on the room lands on me. Not the first time I’ve considered my deafness a blessing. I let them watch me enjoy the kokoda as if blissfully unaware.
“Every second since that terrible moment, I’ve given my thanks to God for sparing me. To Nick for his selfless sacrifice, for which I am truly not worthy.”
That part’s true, I flash at Talei. She furrows her brow.
“That’s why we came here. To launch a reef restoration project in Nick’s honor. Imagine my surprise — my utter astonishment — to find him still alive in Nadi market! When I tell you my heart just about fell out of my chest…! God works in mysterious ways, doesn’t he?”
When William’s gaze falls on me, he lets the mask slip. Just a fraction. Just enough for me to glimpse what lies underneath, his lip curling into a subtle sneer. Then it’s gone. He raises his glass.
“In our culture, we say cheers. So here’s to Nick Andrews, my savior. And his lovely better half on her special day.”
The village raises their glasses to say it with him. Their unified voices vibrate in my teeth. “Cheers!”
My chair scrapes the concrete floor as I eject out of it and run for the safety of the kitchen.
*
I don’t understand why you’re so upset.
He’s not what you think. Trust me.
There’s a tennis match underway in Talei’s mind. Seeing it makes me angry. Makes me want to stick my head in the lovo earth oven. Why didn’t you tell me that’s what happened?
I shake my head. Because when I met you, you accepted me as I am. Not as the projection.
It takes her a moment to piece together the word for projection, but when it lands, I think she might cry. Your past is part of you. It’s what made you the amazing man you are today.
I shake my head again. Turn away from her. Emotions suspended in silence seem bigger somehow, more dramatic. I feel her soft touch at my shoulder but I can’t let her in. Not all the way. If I do, my knees will buckle and I’ll start to howl and I’ll probably never stop. Won’t even know the volume.
Nick…She doesn’t sign it. I feel her speak directly through my back. Still, I’m cold. At the bottom of the ocean. So he’s a liar. You’re not, and you don’t have to be. She forces me to turn and look at her, but for some reason I can’t. I stare at her hands. Her elegant fingers. I know a bribe when I see one. Wasn’t born yesterday. That makes me chuckle because I taught her that phrase. But then– Does it matter so much? It’s still a good thing to help the reef. “And he’s donating a huge amount to the crisis center. That’s more important than us.”
I know what she means. And she’s probably right. So why am I seeing someone totally different in front of me. As though all her folksy wisdom and humble Viti Levu charm is just…lack of exposure to the world at large. More important than us?
That’s not what I’m— I grab her hands to stop her signing. Can’t take anymore. She makes sure I can read her lips. “Come back to dinner. Nana brought her granita for dessert.”
I pull her in for a kiss. There’s something wrong with it. No electricity. No oxygen left. Our faces pull apart and I can tell she felt it, too. A gap.
I try to hold her there. Keep her with me until we cross the divide. Until we float to the surface. But she’s pulling away, lured by sounds I’ll never again get to experience: laughter, music, the tinkle of ice cubes. People enjoying my cooking. Someone calls her name. The chief, her mother, William. It doesn’t matter.
I let her go.
*
The night is a damp cloth. Even the flames of the tiki torches look wet. No one saw me go out the back door.
There’s no one in Talei’s house, or in my bure in the backyard. Packing takes no time at all because I only have a few outfits, some camping gear, and one dog-eared Fijian field guide. In Talei’s shed is a beat-to-hell scooter that takes a dozen kicks to get started. I leave a few hundred dollars on the shelf.
Halfway around the cassava fields, I get spotted by William’s personal bodyguard. He says something into his radio. I gun it for Nausori Highlands Road, spraying red mud from the back tire. Operating entirely by feel, by the grace of the scooter’s one dingy headlight. Riverland breaks into urban decay street corners and low-rise apartments. The jungle presses in with palm fronds that beat at my legs until the road bleeds into a winding mountain pass full of potholes, only partially paved. Then the panorama of the Koromba Mountains.
On a ridge overlooking the Pacific, the scooter runs out of gas. I dump it, curse myself for forgetting such a crucial detail. Should’ve brought a fuel can. Within minutes, a pair of ATV headlights blaze around the corner. William and his bodyguard.
He hops out with a face redder than volcanic soil. Shouts things at me I can’t understand. I point at my ears again to remind his dumb ass. He grabs a notebook out of his leather satchel and scribbles furiously. Holds it up for me to see. WTF?
All I offer is a shrug.
He writes again, You really hate me that much?
That one gets no response at all, at first. His bodyguard wears shades at night like an idiot. Image over utility, always. I sign at William, It’s not all about you.
His turn to shrug. “I don’t know ASL.”
I nod at him. Click on my headlamp and shine the beam in his eyes. Make him squint.
“No fucking DUH, pal.”
I cross the road and disappear into the jungle.
Pictures
1. Leprosy, known as Hansen’s disease
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2. The Mummies of Venzone
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3. The Akodessewa Fetish Market in Togo sells talismans related to voodoo magic.
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4. The Cleveland Torso Murderer
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5. Chilling “Spirit Photography” Said To Reveal Ghosts
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6. Leonid Rogozov performs an appendectomy on himself during a Soviet expedition to Antarctica, 1962.
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7. A baby alone at a train station after surviving a Japanese attack, 1937
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8. The Skeletal remains of a Soviet soldier with his gear still on from WW2.
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9. The interior of the Capela dos Ossos in Portugal is made up entirely of human bones.
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10. 1800s family photo
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11. A man defends his family from cannibals during the Great Indian Famine, 1877
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12. The Florida Skunk Ape
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13. A man is laid to rest with his doll
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14. Photo of Tara Calico found after her disappearance.
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15. David A. Johnston thirteen hours before the eruption of Mt. St. Helens took his life.
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16. Photo captured in 2014 shows two Chinese firefighters, Qian Lingyun, 23, and Liu Jie, 20, falling from the 13th story of a burning building in Shanghai.
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17. Knife thrower and child in 1940s
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18. A United States soldier holds up a jungle centipede during the Vietnam war, 1967
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19. Jonestown from above
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20. The body of an unknown climber of Mount Everest known as “Green Boots.”
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21. Three girls moments before they were hit by a train.
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22. A car escaping the eruption of Mt. Pinatubo in the Philippines, 1991. Photo by Sir Albert Garcia/Manila Bulletin.
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These are some of the most scary pictures ever taken…
What made building a larger log cabin so challenging for early settlers, even though they had plenty of trees around?
I’m a logger in the Black Hills, and I’ve come across many of the first cabins. Others’ answers are correct as to the difficulty of lifting large, long logs into place, and the difficulty of constructing a roof with a large span. However, frontier cabins were usually not built the way people imagine, with coped logs or round logs stacked one atop another, as is Old Faithful Lodge in Yellowstone. Neither of these are as stable or well-insulated as shaping the logs into squares or rectangles, then stacking them. They used a tool called an adze to shape the logs, which eliminated the need to peel them, and allowed them to dry a lot faster and become easier to lift into place. Structurally, you can build larger structures with these logs because of the stability you get with flat-on-flat construction. However, other writers are correct in pointing out the reason for the relatively small structures was practical economics: it was more important to build barns, workshops, grain storage, and so on, than to build a larger home. There was also a cultural difference: back in those days, the settlers were more motivated to build nice schools and churches than nicer homes. I’ve included photos of some of the pioneer log homes I’ve come across in the Black Hills.
Catcast ranking animals
Zalmen Gradowski
(he and his wife)
He was in Auschwitz and worked in the gas chambers. He shaved heads, removed their jewelry, and made sure the corpses were put into the ovens.
He also kept a diary. Anne Frank’s diary became famous and a classic. His remained unnoticed. The only copy I could find was a PDF. It’s called “The Literature of Annihilation – Zalmen Gradowski.” He was also part of the resistance or the underground. He died during a revolt.
His Wikipedia entry is short and practically devoid of content. The diary contains the names of his mother (Sarah), his sister (Libe), his sister (Esther Rokhl), his wife (Sonia), his father, and his brother-in-law (Raphael and Wolf). All these names referred to his family, and they were gassed for “unfitness.” His father, two brothers, and another sister were taken away, though he didn’t know what happened to them. He wrote about them all in the introduction to his diary. The preface is a tribute to his family and his last wish that they not be forgotten.
How did his bravery in keeping this diary safe from the Nazis fall into oblivion?
Before he died, he buried the book so that it could be found later when the camp was liberated.
A few quotes –
“I am only sharing with you a small part of what happened in the hell of Birkenau-Auschwitz. It is up to you to grasp the reality. I have written much more. I am sure that you will come across these remnants and be able to form an idea of how our people were murdered.” – Zalmen Gradowski
“In this way, I hope to immortalize the dear, beloved names of those for whom I cannot even shed a tear at this moment! For I live in an inferno of death where it is impossible to fathom my great losses.” – Zalmen Gradowski
Louis Vuitton won. But Chinese netizens now call it a “toilet bag.”
LVMH’s trademark verdict against Molly Tea
On Jul 2, 2026, the Suzhou Intermediate People’s Court ruled that Molly Tea (茉莉奶白), a Shenzhen-based tea chain with roughly 2,500 stores, infringed seven of Louis Vuitton’s quatrefoil graphic trademarks.
The court ordered Molly Tea to pay RMB 10.3 million ($1.5 million), stop using the motif, and publish remediation statements across six platforms. Molly Tea’s founder, Zhang Bocheng, appealed. Overnight, the brand swapped its black logo for a colored variant.
Legally, the case was clean. LV’s quatrefoil marks were registered in China as early as the 1980s. Molly Tea had actually tried to register its own four-petal flower mark in 2024 — and was rejected by China’s IP office. The brand rolled out the design anyway. The court found willful infringement.
LV’s quatrefoil motif vs Molly Tea’s logo
LV won.
However, within 48 hours, a Weibo hashtag started trending: “LV你身后空无一人” — “LV, there is no one standing behind you.”
Very few Chinese netizens came to LV’s defense. Scroll through the comments, and you’d struggle to find a single netizen backing LV’s position.
Why nobody sided with Louis Vuitton?
Many Chinese netizens claimed that LV was effectively culturally appropriating traditional Chinese motifs.
The quatrefoil pattern has always been a cultural symbol in Chinese history. The pattern’s closest East Asian ancestor is the Baoxiang Flower (宝相花), a symmetrical four-petal motif that appears throughout Tang Dynasty art — Dunhuang murals, silk textiles, bronze mirrors, and was later adopted by the Japanese through Tang diplomatic missions.
An even earlier version: the persimmon-calyx pattern (柿蒂纹) from the Han Dynasty, pointing to the four cardinal directions and carrying the auspicious homophone shi (事, “things going as one wishes”).、
In many Chinese netizens’ eyes, the absurdity of the trademark lawsuit was brutal in its simplicity: LV was suing a Chinese brand for using an ancestral Chinese pattern
And then netizens went further. They dug up LV’s track record in other jurisdictions. In Japan, courts ruled against LV on similar motif disputes in 2021 But in China, LV walked away with a ten-million-yuan verdict.
The “toilet bag”
Other consumers simply dismissed the originality of LV’s logo as being too generic.
For instance, many netizens pointed out that the quatrefoil pattern is actually ubiquitous in traditional yuanlin (garden) architecture across southern China—and that it is ultimately just a generic motif drawn from nature.
A window of a typical garden in southern China
Some netizens even posted pictures of ventilation grilles on old toilets in mainland China, which are commonly carved with four-petaled, symmetrical flowers nearly identical to the LV quatrefoil. More pictures quickly followed: vintage courtyard walls, village window vents, 1980s floor tiles, and kitchen backsplashes, until users across Xiaohongshu, Weibo, and Douyin mockingly began referring to LV tote bags as “toilet tile bags.”
Side-by-side comparisons of LV totes and restroom walls rapidly became a viral meme on Chinese social media:
Many netizens admitted they only realized the visual similarity between Molly Tea’s logo and LV’s pattern after the lawsuit went viral on the internet.
Legal wins are not PR wins. Despite winning the case, this is certainly not a good move for LV.
In my observation, Chinese consumers tend to have a short memory when it comes to standard copyright disputes, so the immediate impact on sales rarely lasts. However, LV’s signature logo—which has long served as social currency for status and a fashion icon in China—is now associated with the “toilet.” That synthetic association poses a far longer-term threat.
This is not the first time
This misstep was certainly not the first, nor was it simply a matter of Chinese consumers boycotting foreign culture.
Many other brands have stumbled across China’s cultural landscape before. The most recent example was Lululemon’s yoga festival on the Great Wall, where the brand featured a Japanese Taiko drum performance while branding it as a traditional Chinese drum display.
Prior to this, other PR crises had emerged as well. In 2024, Fendi attributed a handbag knot resembling a traditional Chinese knot to “Korean craftsmanship.” In 2022, Dior marketed a $3,800 skirt as a “hallmark Dior silhouette,” even though structurally it was a Chinese Mamianqun (马面裙) dating back to the Ming Dynasty.
Of course, this is not to say that the criticism over copyright and design originality is limited to foreign brands—domestic chains like Chagee, for instance, have been repeatedly criticized by netizens for copying Dior’s signature aesthetic.
What set the LV backlash apart was not the dispute over logo design originality: the misstep happened at a time when the rising Guochao (国潮) trend has fostered a highly discerning consumer base—one that is developing a genuine, intellectual interest in reclaiming its cultural roots rather than simply paying for a superficial “vibe” manufactured by global brands.
Some Chinese netizens even discussed on Red Note about turning to Gucci as an alternative. They dug up the history of Kering (Gucci’s parent company) executive management purchasing looted bronze zodiac heads (the rat and rabbit heads from the Old Summer Palace) and returning them to China in 2013. Whether this leads to a real lift in sales remains to be seen, but it shows that Chinese consumers care increasingly less about just the logo, looking instead at the track record and values of the management behind it.
Is this hitting LVMH’s sales?
This controversy doesn’t land in a vacuum. Luxury in China was already soft in Q2 2026, as we covered in our June Data Update.
Behind the paywall, I’ll brief you on the initial impact on LV’s sales and the consumer reaction across major social media platforms. These are data insights from our team at BigOne Lab, parent company of Baiguan.
We also do monthly data updates for secondary market investors in our Baiguan Pro tier. If you wish to continue monitoring the development of LVMH following the aftermath, we strongly encourage you to get a paid subscription. We are offering a free upgrade to the Baiguan Pro tier for all existing paid subscribers at Baiguan until the end of July.
Why couldn’t the SR-71 simply go from Mach 3.2 to Mach 3.5?
I was at the SR-71 symposium at IWM Duxford recently, where a number of former pilots, RSOs and people who worked on the programme came over from the US.
One of the questions I asked former SR-71 pilot Jerry Glasser was what worried him most when he was flying the aircraft.
I thought he might say an engine problem or an inlet unstart. His answer was temperature.
He told me about one flight where they had a problem with the cooling system. They got the aircraft back safely, but afterwards found that the right-hand chine had become so hot that components inside had been damaged.
That gave me a rather different perspective on the usual discussion about how fast the SR-71 could really go.
Mach 3.2 was already an extraordinary environment in which to operate an aircraft. It wasn’t just the engines that had to cope with it. The structure and systems were being subjected to considerable heat for long periods.
Another interesting point came up when they talked about the final SR-71 flight to Washington in 1990. The aircraft covered Los Angeles to Washington in 1 hour 4 minutes 20 seconds, averaging 2,124 mph.
At Duxford we were told that getting the flight below an hour had been considered, which would have meant pushing the aircraft towards Mach 3.5.
The concern wasn’t simply getting it up to that speed. What happened if something went wrong while you were there?
An inlet unstart was one example that was discussed. The inlet system had to control the airflow going into the engine at more than three times the speed of sound. If that airflow broke down in one inlet, the sudden change in thrust and drag could produce a violent yaw.
The crews were trained to deal with this at their normal operating speeds, but pushing the aircraft harder would also reduce the margin they had available.
So after hearing the people who actually flew the SR-71 talk about it, I don’t think Mach 3.5 is really a question of whether the aircraft could have touched that speed.
The more interesting question is whether there was any reason to take an aircraft already doing its job at Mach 3.2 and deliberately push it into an area where the heat and consequences of a problem became greater.
From what the pilots explained at Duxford, the extra speed simply wasn’t worth that risk.
