This week, the House takes up consideration of a highway and infrastructure bill which, if passed, would be the first long-term transportation spending bill since 2005. Even the 2007 collapse of the I-35W bridge in Minneapolis, which killed 13 people and injured almost 150, failed to spur significant infrastructure spending, despite drawing widespread attention to the neglected state of many of America’s bridges. Below is a Sage, Ink cartoon that originally appeared following the Minnesota bridge disaster.
This cartoon was originally posted in October 2013 as Boehner faced the dilemma of reopening the government and avoiding default on the national debt (thereby risking his speakership) or appeasing hard-line GOP lawmakers in the House and safely preserving his role.
Two years later, it again seems relevant as Boehner yields his position and negotiates a bipartisan budget deal on his way out, thereby avoiding a government shutdown and raising the debt ceiling until 2017—allowing his successor Paul Ryan to take over with, as Boehner puts it, “a clean barn.” Russell has more:
The budget deal that John Boehner struck in his final days as House speaker is certainly a political gift to Paul Ryan, but you’ll have to forgive Ryan for showing a lack of appreciation. “I think this process stinks,” the speaker-in-waiting reportedly harrumphed as he walked into a meeting where Republicans were briefed about the 11th-hour agreement. “Under new management, we are not going to run the House this way.”
Well played, congressman. Ryan offered no opinion on the substance of the two-year pact, which increases federal spending by $80 billion and raises the debt ceiling, but his harsh assessment of how it came together was a necessary bit of political theater aimed at the group of conservatives [House Freedom Caucus] who have been most wary of his ascension to the speakership.
This weekend, having just read about Sanders’ impressive fundraising figures and heard that he was coming to Boston, I decided to make my way over to the rally to get a look at the candidate and his supporters:
Marco Rubio’s assertion in Wednesday night’s GOP debate that North Korea is capable of striking the U.S. with “dozens of nuclear weapons” brought to mind this cartoon from 2006, on the occasion of North Korea’s test of a Taepodong missile thought to be capable of reaching Alaska:
As WeWork crashes and Uber bleeds cash, the consumer-tech gold rush may be coming to an end.
Several weeks ago, I met up with a friend in New York who suggested we grab a bite at a Scottish bar in the West Village. He had booked the table through something called Seated, a restaurant app that pays users who make reservations on the platform. We ordered two cocktails each, along with some food. And in exchange for the hard labor of drinking whiskey, the app awarded us $30 in credits redeemable at a variety of retailers.
I am never offended by freebies. But this arrangement seemed almost obscenely generous. To throw cash at people every time they walk into a restaurant does not sound like a business. It sounds like a plot to lose money as fast as possible—or to provide New Yorkers, who are constantly dining out, with a kind of minimum basic income.
Our unpredictable and overburdened schedules are taking a dire toll on American society.
Just under a century ago, the Soviet Union embarked on one of the strangest attempts to reshape the common calendar that has ever been undertaken. As Joseph Stalin raced to turn an agricultural backwater into an industrialized nation, his government downsized the week from seven to five days. Saturday and Sunday were abolished.
In place of the weekend, a new system of respite was introduced in 1929. The government divided workers into five groups, and assigned each to a different day off. On any given day, four-fifths of the proletariat would show up to their factories and work while the other fifth rested. Each laborer received a colored slip of paper—yellow, orange, red, purple, or green—that signified his or her group. The staggered schedule was known as nepreryvka, or the “continuous workweek,” since production never stopped.
History’s best marathoner has broken a mythical time barrier. But it doesn’t count as a world record.
Updated at 2:15 p.m. ET on October 13, 2019.
Early yesterday morning, in a misty park in Vienna, Eliud Kipchoge ran a marathon in less than two hours. His time, 1:59:40, is the fastest any runner has ever covered 26.2 miles. Kipchoge carved two minutes off his own world record and became the first marathoner to break the two-hour barrier.
At the event, branded the INEOS 1:59 Challenge, the performance was heralded as a radical, historic leap, his “Neil Armstrong moment,” as one announcer said. Indeed, Kipchoge himself—a soft-spoken 34-year-old Kenyan who dulls the pain of distance running by smiling mid-competition—has repeatedly equated his feat to reaching the moon. That comparison is audacious on the scale of human achievement, but in the galaxy of running, it might actually be an understatement. Running’s original moon landing, the sub-four-minute mile, took place back in 1954. Yesterday, Kipchoge launched running to Mars.
What the Amazon founder and CEO wants for his empire and himself, and what that means for the rest of us.
Where in the pantheon of American commercial titans does Jeffrey Bezos belong? Andrew Carnegie’s hearths forged the steel that became the skeleton of the railroad and the city. John D. Rockefeller refined 90 percent of American oil, which supplied the pre-electric nation with light. Bill Gates created a program that was considered a prerequisite for turning on a computer.
At 55, Bezos has never dominated a major market as thoroughly as any of these forebears, and while he is presently the richest man on the planet, he has less wealth than Gates did at his zenith. Yet Rockefeller largely contented himself with oil wells, pump stations, and railcars; Gates’s fortune depended on an operating system. The scope of the empire the founder and CEO of Amazon has built is wider. Indeed, it is without precedent in the long history of American capitalism.
Humiliating his own Cabinet secretaries was bad. Putting faithful American allies in harm’s way is far worse.
President Donald Trump’s betrayal of the Kurds stung deeply. “They trusted us and we broke that trust. It’s a stain on the American conscience.” These, according to The New York Times, are the searing words of an Army officer who has worked alongside the Kurds in northern Syria.
China is supposed to be savvy. So why is it throwing a fit about a tweet, an app, and a gamer in a mask in the absence of any real threat?
The Hong Kong protests have entered a fifth month, a longevity that might have been hard to predict at the outset. The protests were sparked in reaction to an extradition bill that protesters feared would mean turning over dissidents to mainland China, but have turned into a broad movement over fears that liberties under the “one country, two systems” promised when the United Kingdom turned over its colony to China would be trampled.
Inevitably, this brought the Chinese government at into conflict with Western companies that do business with China. Recently, the Chinese government has started flexing its muscles, going so far as to pressure Western companies to censor their own employees. Many companies, even big ones, are already caving, including Apple, the NBA, and the gaming company Blizzard Entertainment.
People want to cook and eat together. Modern life has other plans.
Right now, a box of food from a meal-kit company is probably moldering in my apartment building’s mail room. I haven’t been down there in a few days, so maybe there isn’t one at this very moment. But more than two years of living in this building has taught me there’s basically always at least one box, forgotten and slightly stinky. When I visit friends, I often walk past a similar scene next to their elevators: cartons from Blue Apron or HelloFresh, waiting to find out if they’ll ever become the dinners they were meant to be.
Forgetting you mail-ordered a bespoke set of ingredients for a selection of restaurant-style recipes is a luxurious predicament to be in, but the frequency with which those meal kits seem to be abandoned points to the very same problem they were invented to fix: Consumer surveys have found that most people who buy meal kits do so in hopes of saving time. As it turns out, it takes time to unpack, cook, and clean up after a meal-kit dinner, too.
Images of the damage and immediate recovery work taking place in Japan after its worst storm in decades
More than 100,000 rescue workers are still combing through flooded and damaged areas of central Japan after it was struck by Typhoon Hagibis, the most powerful storm to hit the area in more than 60 years. Local authorities are blaming this weekend’s typhoon for more than 70 deaths so far, with a dozen residents still listed as missing. Hagibis brought high winds and heavy rainfall, which damaged structures, collapsed dikes, flooded rivers and low-lying areas, and triggered more than 100 landslides. Gathered here are some of the images of the damage and immediate recovery work taking place.
The lunar supply won’t be anything like the stuff on Earth, but NASA wants it anyway.
Ten years ago, a rocket slammed into the moon.
The impact sent a plume of lunar material from the moon’s south pole flying out into space. For a few minutes, the spacecraft that had unleashed the rocket coasted through the mist, its instruments absorbing as much data as they could. Amid the molecules of methane, ammonia, carbon dioxide, and other compounds, the spacecraft detected something wonderfully familiar: water.
Not liquid water, but grains of water ice. The discovery helped reshape our understanding of Earth’s satellite. Though scientists had long believed that the moon was quite dry, they had begun to harbor suspicions that water might lurk somewhere in its shadowy regions. The excavated material showed them they were right to wonder. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to suggest there was a lot more.
The U.S. financial system is powerful, but not so powerful that it can swiftly stop a military assault in its tracks.
Turkey had to have seen this coming.
Granted, it didn’t feature in the phone call last week where Turkey’s President Recep Tayyip Erdogan informed his American counterpart of his intent to launch an offensive against the Kurds in northeastern Syria, resulting in the retreat of U.S. forces from the region, the advance of Syrian, Russian, and Turkish forces into the void, the flight of tens of thousands of civilians, and the stirrings of a reborn Islamic State.
But the threat to “totally destroy and obliterate the Economy of Turkey” cropped up like clockwork the morning after the call on Twitter, Donald Trump’s preferred venue for such taunts. It was a predictable response from a president who over the past three years has repeatedly demonstrated resistance to using force and skepticism about any diplomatic endeavor that doesn’t involve his personal negotiating skills. In economic sanctions he has found a sweet spot between the slog of diplomacy and the steep price of military action. They satisfy his hankering for economic leverage that can be ratcheted up and down as he pursues deals. In the case of Turkey’s incursion into Syria, however, the hard limits of that happy medium are currently on vivid display.