How Alaska Became America's Marijuana Capital
An illustrated history of legalization on the Last Frontier
An illustrated history of legalization on the Last Frontier
Here’s how to make the most of it.
"It’s not true that no one needs you anymore.”
These words came from an elderly woman sitting behind me on a late-night flight from Los Angeles to Washington, D.C. The plane was dark and quiet. A man I assumed to be her husband murmured almost inaudibly in response, something to the effect of “I wish I was dead.”
Again, the woman: “Oh, stop saying that.”
I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but couldn’t help it. I listened with morbid fascination, forming an image of the man in my head as they talked. I imagined someone who had worked hard all his life in relative obscurity, someone with unfulfilled dreams—perhaps of the degree he never attained, the career he never pursued, the company he never started.
Five years ago, the flight vanished into the Indian Ocean. Officials on land know more about why than they dare to say.
1. The Disappearance
At 12:42 a.m. on the quiet, moonlit night of March 8, 2014, a Boeing 777-200ER operated by Malaysia Airlines took off from Kuala Lumpur and turned toward Beijing, climbing to its assigned cruising altitude of 35,000 feet. The designator for Malaysia Airlines is MH. The flight number was 370. Fariq Hamid, the first officer, was flying the airplane. He was 27 years old. This was a training flight for him, the last one; he would soon be fully certified. His trainer was the pilot in command, a man named Zaharie Ahmad Shah, who at 53 was one of the most senior captains at Malaysia Airlines. In Malaysian style, he was known by his first name, Zaharie. He was married and had three adult children. He lived in a gated development. He owned two houses. In his first house he had installed an elaborate Microsoft flight simulator.
An influencer’s “surprise adventure” was apparently pitched to brands before it even began.
On Tuesday, Marissa Casey Fuchs, a fashion influencer known on Instagram as @fashionambitionist, shared a video to her 160,000-plus followers. In it, her boyfriend, Gabriel Grossman, professes his love and tells her that she’s about to embark on “an extraordinary adventure.”
“I have the most important question of my life to ask you,” he says. “The problem is, we’re not really into traditional weddings. It’s not really our style.” But, he adds, he figured out how to provide “something to experience, enjoy, and, you know, capture for the ’gram so we know it happened.” The video had originally come from Grossman’s feed, and when Fuchs reposted it to her own, she added a caption: “WHAT IS HAPPENING?!”
For 30 years, we’ve trusted human-resources departments to prevent and address workplace sexual harassment. How’s that working out?
In April 2018, I spent three days in Austin, Texas, in the company of more than 2,500 people, most of them women, who are deeply concerned about the problem of workplace sexual harassment. The venue was the city’s convention center, and when a man named Derek Irvine took the vast stage and said that there had been “an uprising in the world of those who refuse to be silent,” the crowd roared its support. He introduced a panel of speakers who have been intimately involved with the #MeToo movement: Tarana Burke, the creator of the original campaign and hashtag; Ronan Farrow, who broke the Harvey Weinstein story in The New Yorker; and Ashley Judd, one of the actors who says she was harassed by Weinstein. Adam Grant, the author of many highly regarded books on management theory and a professor at the Wharton School, interviewed them, and their remarks were often interrupted by loud, admiring applause.
A very strange hybrid whale was the offspring of a narwhal mother and a beluga father.
In the late 1980s, an Inuit subsistence hunter named Jens Larsen killed a trio of very strange whales off the western coast of Greenland.
He and his fellow subsistence hunters would regularly catch two species: narwhals, whose males famously have long, helical tusks protruding from their snouts; and belugas, with their distinctive white skin. But Larsen’s new kills were neither. Their skin wasn’t white, nor mottled like a narwhal’s, but uniformly grey. The flippers were beluga-like, but the tails were narwhal-esque. In all his years of hunting, Larsen had never seen anything like them. He was so struck that he kept one of their skulls on the roof of his toolshed.
In 1990, it caught the attention of Mads Peter Heide-Jørgensen, a scientist who studies marine mammals. With Larsen’s permission, he took it to the Greenland Fisheries Research Institute in Copenhagen for study. And after comparing it to the skulls of known belugas and narwhals, he suggested that it might have been a hybrid between the two species—a narluga.
Two hundred fifty years of slavery. Ninety years of Jim Crow. Sixty years of separate but equal. Thirty-five years of racist housing policy. Until we reckon with our compounding moral debts, America will never be whole.
Clyde Ross was born in 1923, the seventh of 13 children, near Clarksdale, Mississippi, the home of the blues. Ross’s parents owned and farmed a 40-acre tract of land, flush with cows, hogs, and mules. Ross’s mother would drive to Clarksdale to do her shopping in a horse and buggy, in which she invested all the pride one might place in a Cadillac. The family owned another horse, with a red coat, which they gave to Clyde. The Ross family wanted for little, save that which all black families in the Deep South then desperately desired—the protection of the law.
In the 1920s, Jim Crow Mississippi was, in all facets of society, a kleptocracy. The majority of the people in the state were perpetually robbed of the vote—a hijacking engineered through the trickery of the poll tax and the muscle of the lynch mob. Between 1882 and 1968, more black people were lynched in Mississippi than in any other state.
A great deal of communication is based on metaphor and playfulness.
Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is on the linguistic hot seat yet again. This time, she is taking heat for accusing the Trump administration of harboring “concentration camps” on the southern border. Some, it would appear, would prefer that she refer to them as “tender age facilities” as the administration has proposed. Or, at least, some believe it is below the belt for Ocasio-Cortez to use a term that implies a parallel between Donald Trump and Adolf Hitler.
However, the idea that Ocasio-Cortez is coarsening public discourse in all of its recreational nastiness is based on an almost willfully immature take on how language works. In general, the right is acutely aware that a great deal of communication is based on metaphor and playfulness. For Ocasio-Cortez’s critics to suddenly pretend that language is a matter of blankly stating observations—a la the foreign language textbook’s “My uncle is a lawyer but my aunt has a spoon” sort of thing—is a high school debate team feint.
There may be an unprecedented level of discontent with the president among voters satisfied with the economy.
In his campaign kickoff this week, President Donald Trump demonstrated once again that he is determined to solve a problem he doesn’t have—even at the expense of exacerbating the greatest obstacle to his reelection.
With its extended litany of grievances, dark warnings on immigration, and extravagant attacks on Democrats (“The Democrat party has become more radical, more dangerous, and more unhinged than at any point in the modern history of our country”), Trump’s speech left no doubt that his top electoral priority remains energizing his base of ardent supporters. He sent the same message a few hours before he took the stage with a tweet promising massive deportation raids to remove “the millions of illegal aliens who have illicitly found their way into the United States.”
Throughout its history, America has attacked countries that did not threaten it.
The conventions of mainstream journalism make it difficult to challenge America’s self-conception as a peace-loving nation. But the unlovely truth is this: Throughout its history, America has attacked countries that did not threaten it. To carry out such wars, American leaders have contrived pretexts to justify American aggression. That’s what Donald Trump’s administration—and especially its national security adviser, John Bolton—is doing now with Iran.
The historical examples abound. William McKinley’s administration sought a pretext for war in 1898, when—driven by the desire to evict Spain from its colonies in the Caribbean—it ignored evidence that an internal explosion, not a Spanish attack, had blown up the USS Maine in Havana’s harbor. In 1964, Lyndon Johnson exaggerated a North Vietnamese attack on U.S. destroyers in the Gulf of Tonkin to win congressional approval to escalate the Vietnam War. In 1986, Ronald Reagan’s administration sent warplanes toward Libya’s coast to provoke the missile fire that would justify an American bombing campaign. In 1997, according to the memoir of General Hugh Shelton, former chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, a top official in Bill Clinton’s administration suggested that the general lure Saddam Hussein into shooting down a U-2 spy plane over Iraq so the U.S. would have the “precipitous event” it needed “to go in and take out Saddam.” (Shelton refused.) In their book, Hubris, David Corn and Michael Isikoff recount a 2002 CIA plan to help Iraqi exiles take over an Iraqi air base and thus, in the words of one of the plan’s authors, “create an incident in which Saddam lashes out” so “you’d have a premise for war.”
The president is stewing over the possibility Democrats could try to remove him from office. His reelection-minded advisers want him focused on just about anything else.
Anyone can tell from President Donald Trump’s Twitter feed that he’s furious with congressional Democrats for even contemplating impeachment. But to get a better sense of what he’s telling friends, I went to one of his confidants and occasional golf partners: Senator Lindsey Graham of South Carolina. “Does Trump ever mention impeachment to you?” I asked, trailing the senator through the hallways of the Russell Senate Office Building. “Yeah! He’s really pissed,” Graham said.
“What does he say about it?” I pressed, looking for specifics. Graham had reached his private office by this point, but he recreated Trump’s end of the conversation before closing the door: “I’m really pissed.”
Trump’s advisers believe that impeachment is inevitable: Though Speaker Nancy Pelosi has spent weeks rebuffing House Democrats who want to open proceedings, the party's base will force her to eventually relent, they reckon.
Until he was diagnosed with cancer, “Allied” lived a double life.
A man who was wrongfully imprisoned for 40 years shares how he maintained his identity.
A Canadian lab that conducts research on microplastics interrogates the scientific method.