Trump shot back on Twitter that “we cannot let the cure be worse than the problem itself.”
Monday, Trump made clear that was no passing thought but his new approach to the coronavirus, declaring that, “We are going to save American workers, and we are going to save them quickly. And we are going to save our great American companies, both small and large. This was a medical problem. We are not going to let it turn into a long-lasting financial problem.”
If you take a look at my wardrobe, the most common article of clothing I have are sweaters. If I could wear a sweater and jeans everyday, I would. This sweater is different, though. It’s chunky and oversized and super soft, something I can throw on when I’m chilly at night on the couch. But, it also looks like something I’d already have in my closet to pair with jeans and boots. It’s a happy medium between the old hoodies I wear to lounge and the wool sweaters I wear to work.
The sweater is made from a blend of cotton, nylon, and silk. It’s breathable, with chunky buttons that you can leave unbuttoned (I usually unbutton the top button). It’s machine-washable, but also comes with Lunya’s freezer sleeve, which can help refresh your garment between washes. It’s thermoregulating and breathable, so you can wear it basically all year without getting too warm.
Forget exotic fruits and rare liqueurs, talented Los Angeles bartender Gabe Briseno often finds inspiration in one of the most common pantry staples: honey.
“Most bartenders nowadays use simple syrup as a sweetener,” says Briseno, who currently works at the California outpost of Employees Only. “But honey is also a good one that you can just add a dash of and it just changes the whole cocktail.”
Throughout his career, including stints at famed cocktail bars Honeycut and Faith & Flower, he’s used honey in everything from herbal infusions (he particularly likes pairing it with thyme and basil) to even using a dehydrated honeycomb as a garnish.
Sigmund Freud was the father of psychoanalysis, a pioneering Austrian neurologist who gave us foundational theories about repression, transference, dream analysis, and the concept of the unconscious mind’s division into the id, ego and superego—not to mention, of course, the Oedipal complex. Few men have had a greater impact on modern society than Freud, and yet despite the immense influence of his work, there’s one thing no one has known about him until now, courtesy of Freud: his scientific breakthroughs were facilitated by an early-career encounter with mind-controlling, demon-conjuring hypnotists.
Stunning, right? Let’s just say that Netflix’s Freud is nothing like a traditional biopic, even if showrunners Marvin Kren, Stefan Brunner and Benjamin Hessler’s eight-part foreign-language series (debuting March 23) does ground its action in Freud’s groundbreaking approach to treating—and understanding—the human mind. A period-piece thriller that begins in a vein similar to that of The Alienist and then devolves into unholy supernatural insanity, it’s an affair that won’t win any awards for historical accuracy—but, in the final tally, is better off for succumbing to its own baser impulses.
At least initially, Freud doesn’t tip its hand about the madness to come. In 19th century Austria, enterprising Freud (Robert Finster) attempts to master hypnosis—a practice he believes will allow physicians to tap into the subconscious parts of the mind that govern our behavior. Freud is convinced that people diagnosed with “hysteria” are often suffering from memories of past traumas. That puts him on the outs with his fellow doctors, although compounding Freud’s problems is the fact that his hypnosis talents are so ineffectual that, in a demonstration for his professor and colleagues, he has to resort to having his housekeeper Lenore (Brigitte Kren) pretend to be a patient who’s miraculously cured by his trance-like therapy. He’s a quasi-charlatan whose methods haven’t yet caught up with his revolutionary principles.
Erin Friar is a Morning Editor for The Daily Beast’s Cheat Sheet. She is an avid gardener, and we at Scouted thought, in light of everything going on right now, gardening is a great hobby to pick up. It’s one that I’m interested in learning, but have been too intimidated to try. But as turns out, you can start a garden, even in a small, studio apartment with this helpful tool. Erin, an expert, was kind enough to discuss gardening with me, and offer some advice.
When did you start gardening?
My grandfather had a huge backyard vegetable garden when I was a kid. He would have 45 tomato plants at a time, and summers and falls were consumed with everyone sitting in a breezeway, snapping green and yellow beans. Every indoor surface—window sills, the pool table, counters, spare beds—was lined with ripening tomatoes and Mason jars. My grandmother would get really cranky for weeks from canning everything.
It’s the day after Super Tuesday, and one of America’s leading young socialist thinkers is having a “horrible sense of déjà vu.”
Nathan J. Robinson, 30, is the founder and editor-in-chief of Current Affairs which, since launching in 2015, has become required reading for a generation of young leftists—“dirtbag” or otherwise—and anyone else who finds mainstream political commentators to be a touch out-of-touch. The Current Affairs media empire exists as a lavishly designed bi-monthly magazine and roundtable podcast, but it’s the frequently updated website that garners the most attention.
From a viral explainer titled “How We Know Brett Kavanaugh Is Lying” to a sincere plea to Meghan McCain to “come and join the left,” many of the most-shared articles come from Robinson’s pen. He earned Current Affairs its first viral hit with an early 2016 essay in which he—in hindsight, quite presciently—wrote about why Secretary of State Hilary Clinton would be a weak candidate against Donald Trump, and the Democratic Party needed to rally around Senator Bernie Sanders, who was uniquely suited to counter Trump’s populist rhetoric.
Hello Alfred, a casual butler startup that caters largely to affluent people in large cities, is battling internal unrest as it continues operating during the coronavirus outbreak.
The “Alfreds,” the workers who perform the housekeeping, delivery, and errand services offered by the company, are carrying out a reduced slate of tasks in New York City, the epicenter of the outbreak in the Northeast.
This post contains spoilers for The Walking Dead Season 10, Episode 13, “What We Become.”
As Danai Gurira and her character, Michonne, leave The Walking Dead, it’s safe to say that the series will never be the same. Since she made her debut in the Season 3 premiere, Gurira has been a fan favorite among the cast—and her character’s journey through this post-apocalyptic world has been one of the most satisfying.
But at least if Michonne had to leave, she did so alive—and with a journey that seems to promise we’ll see her again. In Sunday’s installment, confirmed to be Gurira’s last on the show, Michonne discovers a drawing of herself—by Rick. By the end, she’s on a mission to find out if he’s still out there somewhere, with a blessing from Judith. And at the very end of the episode, she discovers a phalanx of strangers ready to depart for… somewhere. It sure looks like this could be connected with the helicopter that picked Rick up.
For a subset of the dance music world, the third (or fourth) weekend in March arrives like the highest of holy days. A crowd of some 170,000 descends on Bayfront Park in Miami to pop MDMA and dance their faces off at Ultra Music Festival, the 72-hour spectacle that helped make EDM a mainstream American genre. Under normal circumstances, Ultra would have ended yesterday. But after the novel coronavirus (COVID-19) triggered closures across the country, the concert was cancelled. Instead, the festival migrated online, announcing a weekend marathon of live DJ sets on SiriusXM. The digital concert would essentially be radio, but rebranded as an upgrade: the “Ultra Virtual Audio Festival.”
Ultranauts, as the corporation calls its fans, did not love the new plan. A day after the new format was announced, Facebook groups popped up calling for diehards to “Storm Ultra 2020, They Can’t Quarantine All of Us,” as one event page put it. “Bring your wireless speakers, friends, hydration packs, kandi, flags and PLUR vibes to Bayfront park,” the moderator wrote. “Facemasks encouraged.”
That page drew over 1,000 interested attendees, until Facebook intervened (“So it turns out,” a would-be guest noted, “they really can quarantine us all.”) Instead, on Friday evening, as 75 million Americans settled in for another night of social distancing, the Ultranauts logged on. “What dimensions does my hydration pack need to be to get in?” a user called X-Mang asked the festival subreddit. “Fuck it,” user joeschmo28 answered. “I’m wearing mine during the livestream.”