Last weekend, Donald Trump tweeted his distaste for Alec Baldwin’s portrayal of him on Saturday Night Live, calling the show “boring and unfunny.” But SNL, which has been poking fun at presidential elections since 1976, is experiencing its highest ratings in eight years. Back then, during the 2008 election, Tina Fey famously guest-starred to play then-vice-presidential nominee Sarah Palin.
This week, we asked readers via Politics & Policy Daily to share their favorite SNL election sketches. Here are some of the best responses.
Thanks to David H. Lippman for suggesting the 1992 episode where Dana Carvey and Phil Hartman—portraying Ross Perot and Jim Stockdale, respectively—discuss Stockdale’s erratic behavior at the vice-presidential debate:
Jeff Harris offered up his favorite SNL presidential debate skit: a spoof on the 53rd Republican Debate in 1988:
Dan Aykroyd is fantastic as Bob Dole on the heels of a televised spar with George Bush (“I know it. You know it. The American people know it.”) Dana Carvey as George Bush is great too, but Al Franken as Pat Robertson seals the deal for me.
And while not election-related, we really enjoyed Martin Ward’s suggestion of Dan Aykroyd as President Carter accepting unscreened calls from listeners on a call-in talk show:
This week in our Politics & Policy Daily newsletter, we asked readers who should represent the Red Planet if President Obama’s goal is accomplished and humans are able to “remain there for an extended time.” We got some great responses via hello@. Michael Wood reminds us that Dennis Kucinich, a former Democratic congressman and presidential contender, once saw a UFO and claimed he had “felt a connection in his heart and heard directions.” Wood said Kucinich is “clearly best positioned to continue his role as liaison.”
Props to reader Michael Zarrelli for recommending the late James Traficant, another Democratic congressman from Ohio, who used to end speeches with the phrase “Beam me up!” Zarrelli’s idea is echoed by regular question-answerer Howard Cohen: “Perhaps the ashes of former Rep. James ‘Beam me up, Scotty’ Traficant have already reached Mars and they already have a ‘congressman’”?
Another reader, Dirk Bloemendaal, suggested that California Governor “Moonbeam” Jerry Brown might make a good Mars representative:
He has always had a fascination with outer space and once proposed that California launch its own space satellite. Of course, he’d have to run for Congress, on the “far out” plank, and his advanced age may slow him down a bit—but his California Dreamin’ Drive would see him through!
Lastly, Catherine Martin has some 2016 election snark: “I think we should send Donald Trump to ‘remain there for an extended time.’”
As our own Megan Garber leads The Atlantic’s movie club in the weeks leading up to Election Day, we asked what politics-related film our Politics & Policy Daily readers consider to be mandatory viewing for all Americans. We got loads of submissions for classics like The Candidate, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, and Advise & Consent. Big props to Michael J. Sweat for reminding us about the 2006 film Idiocracy, starring Luke Wilson.
And to Alicia Shepard for All the President's Men, which she calls “a fascinating window into the changing world of journalism and the nefarious world of Nixon’s presidency.”
And from avid Daily reader Howard Cohen: “Given the conspiracies that Trump has been putting out going back to the birther issue—including that the election will be rigged if he loses—there is no better political flick to watch before November 8 than The Parallax View.”
Another reader offered a movie for both Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton, letting us “guess for which candidate each film is germane”:
1. Hitler: A Career: The rise and fall of a firebrand and despot who uses pure emotion to rile the masses
2. Evita: Wife of a dictatorial president who yearns to break out on her own
The common thread? In both cases, film and real-life, it’s all about them.
And thanks to John Donovan for offering a selection of more obscure political films based on genre:
Satire—Bulworth: A flawed film but dead-on depiction of the nihilistic political hucksters gutting our democracy. Worth a watch just for Warren Beatty rapping and romancing Halle Berry, and Oliver Platt’s brilliant portrayal of a craven Hill staffer.
Serious—Battle of Chile: Historic documentary filmed as the overthrow of Allende happened. You’ll never forget the footage of a soldier firing at and killing the cameraman filming him.
Classic—The Great McGinty by Preston Sturges. Corruption has never been funnier … until maybe Chris Christie.
Cult—Maidstone: written, directed, and starring Norman Mailer who plays a presidential candidate. Famous for scary, semi-real assassination attempt by hammer-wielding method actor Rip Torn. Pure madness.
Finally, Mark Febrizio offers up the 1974 classic Chinatown which, despite not being about politics, he writes, “offers a dark, yet realistic, depiction of the repercussions of eroded political and legal institutions.”
More from Mark:
On a basic level, the water shortage is a consequence of institutional—not just environmental—problems (I think this is something most can agree on regardless of one’s preferred solution). Furthermore, we also see the results of a government bureaucracy (the L.A. Department of Water and Power) captured by business interests, and the paralyzing effects of the distorted incentives for law enforcement officials.
Chinatown isn’t a movie that provides political solutions but instead offers substantial food for thought, especially for the many Americans who may feel that contemporary political and legal institutions have similarly eroded. Additionally, it’s worth watching just for the exceptional screenplay, gripping performances, and taut direction.
Jeb Bush, one of the Republican presidential candidates this year, made a cameo as a limo driver during the Emmy Awards last Sunday night. Rick Perry, who also briefly ran for the White House, is now a contestant on Dancing With the Stars. This week, we asked readers where they expect to see the former 2016 presidential contenders on television, and we got some great answers.
Props to reader Jeremy Glenn for predicting Libertarian Party presidential nominee Gary Johnson will end up on “the next installment of Survivor”—assuming he doesn’t win in November, that is.
But our personal favorite comes from reader Joanne Allard, who expects Dr. Ben Carson to show up in an ad for the sedative Ambien, although “through the list of possible side effects, he’ll have moved on to an ad for luggage.”
And even though House Speaker Paul Ryan never ran for president, Joanne would not be surprised if the CrossFit fanatic ended up performing promotional videos “for extreme-fitness programs that air at 2 a.m.”
Finally, here’s a whole slew of ideas from one of our regular contributors, Dirk Bloemendaal:
Donald Trump: Modern Family, ’cause he’d fit right in. (Alternative: Game of Thrones, because Winter is Coming.)
Hillary Clinton: The Voice, ’cause hers is so melodic and smooth when she raises it.
Critics pounced on Today Show host Matt Lauer for his handling of NBC’s Commander in Chief forum featuring Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump, foreshadowing the level of scrutiny the moderators will face during this fall’s presidential debates. The scheduled moderators are Anderson Cooper of CNN, Lester Holt of NBC, Martha Raddatz of ABC, and Chris Wallace of Fox News—and they’re already feeling the heat.
So, this week we asked readers to offer their thoughts on who might make the best presidential debate moderator and why. Several readers suggested MSNBC host Rachel Maddow. Here’s Marguerite Beaudoin’s reasoning:
It is my opinion that Rachel Maddow would be a great moderator, despite the fact that she is a Democrat. She is capable of conducting herself in an unbiased and professional manner and can “handle” both of them without doubt.
Here’s Maddow in action:
There was also a lot of support for Democracy Now! host and producer Amy Goodman. Why? Reader Lisa McDaniels picked Goodman because she’s “smart, has an amazing breadth and depth of knowledge, is even-tempered, is independent/not owned by corporate media, and looks like a real human being, not an air-brushed celebrity.”
A particularly great suggestion came from reader Steven Durham, who really wishes Judge Judy could moderate the presidential debates:
She would destroy Trump for having no substance; she would destroy Clinton for her terrible campaigning skills; and she’d be entertaining, which is what the American voter apparently needs in order to be engaged.
Reader Joe Bookman suggested The Atlantic’s very own Molly Ball: “She is smart, fair, has demonstrated knowledge of the issues as well as the candidates, and is likely not well-known by the candidates themselves.” Another reader, David Murray, described what a talented debate moderator would bring to the stage:
The best moderator, in my opinion, will:
a) Hold the speaker accountable for a clear answer and do not allow a speaker to side-step a question.
b) Prevent speakers from using personal attacks on their opponent and remain solely on the issues and questions. Any form of name calling or derogatory remarks are to be halted and called out (example: “Crooked Hillary”). The moderator must insist on respect for the person.
c) Ensure speakers stay in the time allotment and be firm in cutting them off especially if their response is not addressing the question, is attacking their opponent, or is posturing.
In my opinion, the moderator in these important presidential debates is not a simple bystander, especially with these two candidates. The issues are too great and these two have been skirting them for too long. And if the media is ever to restore any semblance of credibility, the moderators must be strong, clear journalists asking straightforward questions, not allowing the candidates to fudge or skirt an answer. The questions must be precise and to the point. They must be realistic. They must address current, complex issues in a way that allows for clear, concise, and thoughtful responses. The moderator, in my opinion, must seek responses that answer the basic journalist’s framework: 5 Ws and an H.
We need to know how the next president will govern, how he or she will make decisions, how he/she will collaborate, how he/she will reduce the influence of special interests and how he/she will stand up to special interests; how he/she will lift up the poor, improve the safety nets of Americans, and help foster a more just society.
The moderators must be more prepared than the candidates, be firm, be courageous, and be mindful of the American people and not the ratings of a broadcast company.
This next reader, Donald Haskell, also made an interesting point about the unique role of a moderator:
I don’t know enough to respond to the debate moderator choice question, but I believe that the guidelines for a moderator should be quite different from those of a news interviewer. I think that the moderator is tasked with generating a list of questions that challenge the debaters to clarify their positions on a broad range of topics, and it is the debate opponent's responsibility to challenge the response, not the moderator’s (in contrast to the responsibilities of a news interviewer).
Secondly, both, but especially the debate moderator, must exercise control over the process, even if it means using an on/off switch to cut off a debater or interviewee when they exceed the parameters of the event (similar to the minister who redirected Mr Trump at the Flint church).
And finally, props to reader Patricia Heaps for keeping it light: She suggested that Donald Duck should moderate the presidential debates because “this race is a cartoon.”
Congress returned to Capitol Hill this week, and Candice and I posed a new question to our Politics & Policy Daily readers: What book should be required reading for every senator and representative? We got an overwhelming number of responses, but here are a few of our favorites:
Martha Allen was the first of many to suggest Just Mercy, Bryan Stevenson’s widely acclaimed memoir detailing his career as a young lawyer, fighting against injustice in America’s criminal-justice system.
Another popular submission was The Prince, Niccolo Machiavelli’s 16th-century manual on manipulating your way to power. Thanks to Jerry Purmal for being the first to suggest it.
In case you’re curious: Michael Ignatieff examined The Prince more closely in his piece for The Atlantic back in December 2013, asking whether President Obama is “Machiavellian enough.”
One particularly thoughtful response came from Briauna Barrera:
If I could assign one book for every member of Congress to read (and perhaps everyone period) it would be Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer.
The book explores the current state of food systems in the US, and to a lesser extent the world, and the historical events that led up to its current status, its successes, and more importantly, its failures, shortcomings, and problems. However, Foer approaches the issue from the lens of being a new father and simply wanting to do what's best for his newborn son. He also grapples with being a son himself, and a grandson, and dealing with the emotional implications that meat has for him and his family (his grandmother was a Holocaust survivor who wastes nothing and shows her love through food).
I think if Congress would read this book, it would show that what we are doing with agriculture—the way we get our food, the way we interact with animals—isn’t sustainable and that something needs to be done now. This is connected to climate change, it’s connected to resource management, land use, population growth, the economy, everything. Food touches most—if not every—aspect of our lives. Beyond that, it’s deeply ingrained in our cultures, our nationalities, our religions, our lifestyles, our very psyches. This isn’t some writer preaching against meat, this is a data-rich narrative with plenty of complementary and opposing perspectives discussing this complex and complicated subject. This book is filled with just as much hard facts as it is feeling.
I’ve been grappling with my own ethical issues with eating meat for a while now and this book gave me words and concepts and facts for a lot of the feelings and abstract thoughts I’ve had. This isn’t a liberal issue or a conservative issue or a moderate issue or what have you. Ironically enough, eating meat, farming, our food systems, animal rights, they are all human issues. We are forced to confront our humanity and what we consider what it means to be human when dealing with eating animals. As hard as it is to face that, to confront it and name it and come to terms with it, it needs to happen and it needs to happen from all of us.
The presidential debates are fast-approaching, and last week, we asked who might make a good stand-in for Donald Trump in Hillary Clinton’s debate prep. This week, we turned the tables, asking our Politics & Policy Daily readers who could cleverly portray Clinton during Trump’s rehearsal. We had a handful of great responses, but here are our favorites:
Jane Curtin, suggested by Howard Cohen
Since Trump is liable to borrow the famous Dan Aykroyd line “Jane, you ignorant slut” from the old Saturday Night Live's “Weekend Update” segment (which was a parody of the old 60 Minutes “Point-Counterpoint” with Shana Alexander and James J. Kilpatrick), there is no one better to play Hillary than Jane Curtin.
“Crooked Hillary, you lying witch.”
"Donald, you go from giving Bill and the D’s money to running for president as a Republican while stiffing charities and your own contract workers...”
In the coming months, Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton will face off in what will surely be some of the most riveting television showdowns of all time. But many campaign watchers are wondering how Clinton is going to prepare for a debate with such a notoriously brash and unpredictable candidate. She is reportedly struggling with that question herself.
So this week, we asked readers to recommend who they think could artfully play Trump in a debate rehearsal. Turns out, you have given this a lot of thought, as nearly a hundred responses came in. Props to reader Marc Boissonneault for the winning suggestion of actor Alec Baldwin. You probably remember Baldwin from his role as wealthy businessman/news exec Jack Donaghy on NBC’s 30 Rock:
Alec Baldwin has the physical presence and acting ability to be a believable Trump. Also, he is smart and politically savvy, so he would know what Trump would say and how he would act. He would totally kill this gig.
But who else could take on Clinton without holding back?
Reader Alison Deck suggested actor Kevin Spacey because of his experience playing conniving politician Frank Underwood in House of Cards. Alison took us through her thought process:
First thought, Donald Duck: His scattershot, nonlinear speaking style; tendency toward gratuitous repetition; very dubious factual grounding. The “not wearing pants” thing probably too distracting, though.
I then considered Mel Gibson and Charlie Sheen; they’re clearly narcissists, after all. Each has had significant negative interactions with women, massive impulse-control issues, problems with substance abuse not dissimilar to Trump’s egomania (branding, incessantly referencing himself in both first and third person). Still, their personal lives/leanings tend to be such roller-coaster rides that compelling them to stay in “Donald” character (for 60-90 minutes!) might be just too much to expect.
So, ultimately, Kevin Spacey. He’s a gifted actor, has played an array of roles, all over the map really. His work on House of Cards may have given him some serious grounding in political skullduggery and at least peripheral understanding of policy. Surveying the roles he's taken on, he seems like a guy who'd be up for the challenge.”
Ultimately, the ideal debate sparring-opponent would be able to channel “The Donald” while not becoming sublimated to the schtick. I truly can think of no actual person in politics who could do this.
Hence, “The Kevin.”
Alison is right that “The Kevin” would probably play a phenomenal Trump. But would he have the guts to attack Clinton personally? Reader Dan Meyer thought that Triumph the Insult Comic Dog would be better. Here’s Triumph at this year’s Democratic National Convention:
But reader Chris McCann was less optimistic, saying that “one substitute, no matter how talented in his or her realization of Trumpness, will not capture the element that makes Trump Trump.” More from Chris:
The Clinton campaign should employ hundreds of folks who will love everything he says and a Trump substitute who will be fed on the love. It's the World Series, she's down 3 games to none, she's playing in her opponent’s stadium in front of an adoring fanbase—a fanbase that will roar approval every time he swings the bat, even when he misses.
Our newly revamped newsletter Politics & Policy Daily (formerly The Edge) started a new little feature on Monday, “Question of the Week.” In the inaugural entry, Elaine—who runs P&PD—asked:
Last week, Britain voted to break with the European Union—a decision known as “Brexit.” If the United States were to leave the United Nations, as Sarah Palin suggested, what would that exit’s nickname be?
Readers sent scores of submissions throughout the week, and today the Politics team picked a winner: Amerigo, submitted by Bob Kerr. The two runners-up are Conscious UN-coupling from Julian Ha and Saranara from Art Kane. Some honorable mentions:
Lee C. Fanshaw with my personal favorite: Yankxit
Barry Popik would text the United Nations: UNmeRnot2B
Chris Leggett goes social media: UN-friending
John Wetzel goes with the Italian word for “exit”: Uscita
Connor Phillips might be a servicemember: USAWOL
Kenny from California: USAway
Howard P. Cohen: USAloha!
Aloha indeed, and happy Fourth! When 240 years ago, Americans exited Britain.
(To sign up for Politics & Policy Daily, and to see what it looks like overall, go here. For the rest of our newsletter offerings, head here.)
In the United States, this pandemic could be almost over by now. The reasons it’s still going are pretty clear.
In the United States, this pandemic could’ve been over by now, and certainly would’ve been by Labor Day. If the pace of vaccination through the summer had been anything like the pace in April and May, the country would be nearing herd immunity. With most adults immunized, new and more infectious coronavirus variants would have nowhere to spread. Life could return nearly to normal.
Experts list many reasons for the vaccine slump, but one big reason stands out: vaccine resistance among conservative, evangelical, and rural Americans. Pro-Trump America has decided that vaccine refusal is a statement of identity and a test of loyalty.
In April, people in counties that Joe Biden won in 2020 were two points more likely to be fully vaccinated than people in counties that Donald Trump won: 22.8 percent were fully vaccinated in Biden counties; 20.6 percent were fully vaccinated in Trump counties. By early July, the vaccination gap had widened to almost 12 points: 46.7 percent were fully vaccinated in Biden counties, 35 percent in Trump counties. When pollsters ask about vaccine intentions, they record a 30-point gap: 88 percent of Democrats, but only 54 percent of Republicans, want to be vaccinated as soon as possible. All told, Trump support predicts a state’s vaccine refusal better than average income or education level.
They’re not all anti-vaxxers, and treating them as such is making things worse.
Last week, CDC Director Rochelle Walensky said that COVID-19 is “becoming a pandemic of the unvaccinated.” President Joe Biden said much the same shortly after. They are technically correct. Even against the fast-spreading Delta variant, the vaccines remain highly effective, and people who haven’t received them are falling sick far more often than those who have. But their vulnerability to COVID-19 is the only thing that unvaccinated people universally share. They are disparate in almost every way that matters, including why they haven’t yet been vaccinated and what it might take to persuade them. “‘The unvaccinated’ are not a monolith of defectors,” Rhea Boyd, a pediatrician and public-health advocate in the San Francisco Bay Area, tweeted on Saturday.
I carried on for more than a year of the coronavirus pandemic, but I didn’t see the next plague coming.
After the end of the world, there will be birdsong. I used to imagine this when everything was going awry. I would lie in bed in my college dorm room and listen to the lone mockingbird who sang all night outside my window in the spring months. I was worried about something or other; he was getting on with things. It’s what birds do. They have a knack for it. In the Book of Genesis, after the devastation of the Earth by God’s cataclysmic flood, Noah releases from his ark a dove; he knows that the trial has ended when the bird does not return, having alighted somewhere out in the damp and dreary world, the first land-dwelling creature to begin the work of carrying on.
What else is there to do? When COVID-19 began to spread in the United States, late in the winter of 2020, I told myself as much. In plagues, as in life, there is a morally arbitrary hierarchy of luck, and it didn’t take long for me to realize that my family and I were among the lucky ones. I was in my late 20s, hale and hearty, my husband the same plus a couple of years. Our children were young—our baby was, in fact, under a year old, something I eventually mentioned in a meekly anxious aside to a doctor I was interviewing for a story on the emerging pandemic. He acknowledged certain risks in the way that doctors do, and then said: “Don’t worry. Kids are kicking ass with this thing.” I was both comforted and chastened; this wasn’t mine to panic about. The best I could do for those in peril was to carry on.
Roadrunner, a new documentary about the chef and television star, tries to uncover who he really was, but neglects vital parts of his story.
Regardless of whether you loved Anthony Bourdain—and the striking thing is that so many people who had even a spotty acquaintance with him or his work felt like they did—the end of Roadrunner is devastating to watch. Morgan Neville’s new documentary about the chef and TV star runs through two decades of Bourdain’s life onscreen before concluding with present-day scenes of his friends still struggling to parse his death by suicide in 2018, at the age of 61. “I don’t think he was cruel, and there’s such a cruelty to that [act],” the musician Alison Mosshart says. “What the hell is everyone supposed to do?” The artist David Choe weeps on camera, and then spray-paints over a mural of Bourdain, as if to challenge the hagiographic portraits of the Parts Unknown host that proliferated after his death. “Going out in a blaze of glory was so fucking lame,” he says.
The once-dynamic state is closing the door on economic opportunity.
Behold California, colossus of the West Coast: the most populous American state; the world’s fifth-largest economy; and arguably the most culturally influential, exporting Google searches and Instagram feeds and iPhones and Teslas and Netflix Originals and kimchi quesadillas. This place inspires awe. If I close my eyes I can see silhouettes of Joshua trees against a desert sunrise; seals playing in La Jolla’s craggy coves of sun-spangled, emerald seawater; fog rolling over the rugged Sonoma County coast at sunset into primeval groves of redwoods that John Steinbeck called “ambassadors from another time.”
This landscape is bejeweled with engineering feats: the California Aqueduct; the Golden Gate Bridge; and the ribbon of Pacific Coast Highway that stretches south of Monterey, clings to the cliffs of Big Sur, and descends the kelp-strewn Central Coast, where William Hearst built his Xanadu on a hillside where his zebras still graze. No dreamscape better inspires dreamers. Millions still immigrate to my beloved home to improve both their prospects and ours.
In 1955, just past daybreak, a Chevrolet truck pulled up to an unmarked building. A 14-year-old child was in the back.
This article was published online on July 22, 2021.
The dentist was a few minutes late, so I waited by the barn, listening to a northern mockingbird in the cypress trees. His tires kicked up dust when he turned off Drew Ruleville Road and headed across the bayou toward his house. He got out of his truck still wearing his scrubs and, with a smile, extended his hand: “Jeff Andrews.”
The gravel crunched under his feet as he walked to the barn, which is long and narrow with sliding doors in the middle. Its walls are made of cypress boards, weathered gray, and it overlooks a swimming pool behind a white columned house. Jeff Andrews rolled up the garage door he’d installed.
Our eyes adjusted to the darkness of the barn where Emmett Till was tortured by a group of grown men. Christmas decorations leaned against one wall. Within reach sat a lawn mower and a Johnson 9.9-horsepower outboard motor. Dirt covered the spot where Till was beaten, and where investigators believe he was killed. Andrews thinks he was strung from the ceiling, to make the beating easier. The truth is, nobody knows exactly what happened in the barn, and any evidence is long gone. Andrews pointed to the central rafter.
Why did so many Americans receive strange packages they didn’t think they’d ordered?
Sid Miller, the Texas agriculture commissioner, sat atop his stallion Smokey and faced the camera. It was Saturday, August 1, 2020. Miller had a message to share.
“Good morning, patriots,” Miller began, raising the coiled lasso in his right hand by way of greeting. “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting tired of all these surprises coming out of China. First it was the Chinese virus, then we had the murder hornets, then we had to close the embassy in Houston because of espionage … Now we’ve got all these mystery seeds coming in in the mail.”
It was the seeds that Miller wanted to speak about. By then, news of the seeds had been circulating for several days. Packets were turning up at homes across the United States; residents of every state would eventually report receiving them. Their address labels and Customs declarations indicated that they had been sent from China. The contents were usually described as an item of jewelry—something like “rose stud earrings”—but inside would be a small packet of unidentified seeds. There was no evident reason why particular people were receiving particular seeds, or why people were receiving seeds at all.
Backlash to the ice-cream maker’s decision to distinguish between Israel and the territories it occupies has shown that, for many Israelis, the distinction no longer exists.
No company does progressive politics quite like Ben & Jerry’s. The Vermont-based ice-cream maker has a reputation for corporate activism, owing to its support for a wide array of left-wing causes, including marriage equality, Occupy Wall Street, and Black Lives Matter. But when the company announced this week that it will no longer sell its products in the Israeli-occupied Palestinian territories, it faced an outcome that every ice-cream maker fears most: a meltdown.
The matter of Israel’s settlements, which the international community regards as illegal under international law but which the Trump administration said will need to be resolved through a political and not a judicial process, has long been a thorny issue in Israel. (The Biden administration has yet to articulate its own policy on this.) When it comes to ice cream, though, the country’s notoriously fractious political sphere is virtually unanimous. Israel’s right-wing prime minister, Naftali Bennett, said that Ben & Jerry’s has decided to brand itself as an “anti-Israel ice cream.” His centrist coalition partner, Yair Lapid, called the move a “shameful surrender to anti-Semitism.” Israeli President Isaac Herzog of the center-left, who once committed to removing Israeli settlements in the West Bank, called Ben & Jerry’s decision to shun them “a new kind of terrorism.” The newly minted opposition leader, Benjamin Netanyahu, suggested that Israelis should boycott the brand. One centrist cabinet minister dutifully posted a TikTok of herself chucking a pint of what looked like Dulce de Leche into the trash.
A newish wave of sophisticated, adult board games have made exploitation part of their game mechanics. A reckoning is coming.
The board game “Puerto Rico” begins after everyone around the table receives a mat printed with the verdant interior of the game’s namesake island. Players are cast as European tycoons who have trekked across the Atlantic at the height of the Age of Exploration. “In 1493 Christopher Columbus discovered the easternmost island of the Great Antilles,” read the back of the game box that once sat on my living-room shelf. “About 50 years later, Puerto Rico began to really blossom.” To win, one must “achieve the greatest prosperity and highest respect.”
In practice, that means the mechanics of “Puerto Rico” are centered around cultivation, exploitation, and plunder. Each turn, a player takes a role—the “settler,” the “builder,” the “trader,” the “craftsman,” the “captain,” and so on—and tries to slowly transform their tropical enclave into a tidy, 16th-century imperial settlement. Perhaps they uproot the wilds and replace them with tobacco pastures or corn acreage, or maybe they outfit the rocky reefs with fishing wharfs and harbors, in order to ship those goods back across the ocean. All of this is possible only with the help of a resource that the game calls “colonists,” —represented by small, brown discs in the game’s first edition, which was published by Rio Grande Games and is available in major retailers—who arrive by ship and are sent by players to work on their plantations.
American culture still treats disinterest in sex as something that needs to be fixed. What if any amount of desire—including none—was okay?
For more than half a century, the modern industry of sex therapists, educators, and experts has been eager to tell us whether we’re having enough sex, or the right kind of sex. But this industry is, like any other, shaped by the broader culture—it took for granted that the goal was to “get everybody to the point where they have a type of desire and quality of desire that fits within the cultural norms and values,” the sex therapist and researcher Michael Berry says. Decades ago that meant: straight, monogamous, within marriage, private, nothing too kinky.
As American culture has become more expansive in its understanding of sexuality, so has sex therapy. But this kind of sex positivity often doesn’t leave room for those who don’t want sex at all. The prevailing idea remains that, as Berry puts it, “if people are coming to see a sex therapist, the intent would be to get them to have sex.”