The N.F.L. Had Over 700 Coronavirus Positives. The Seahawks Had None.

On the N.F.L.’s march to complete a 269-game schedule amid a pandemic, more than 700 players, coaches and other team personnel tested positive for the coronavirus. It upended rosters, with the Denver Broncos starting a game without any of their three quarterbacks and the Cleveland Browns once fielding a team with nearly all of their receivers out, and it postponed games, with some outbreaks pushing them into midweek or to a bye week.

Through it all, only one of the league’s 32 teams remained untouched by the virus: the Seattle Seahawks. And how they made it through the long season virus-free, in Washington State, where the United States’ first positive case was reported, is a testament to innovative thinking and procedures. The team’s devotion to following health guidelines became a guidepost for the N.F.L. and other leagues grappling with how to proceed as the deadly virus continued to grip the country.

“They invented a playbook for a safe practice environment at a time when the future was deeply uncertain and people were questioning the wisdom of pro sports starting up,” said Vin Gupta, a pulmonologist who has helped organizations respond to the coronavirus and informally advised the Seahawks. “You have to be willing to absorb some costs, and you need leaders who can communicate in a crisis.” (...)

The Seahawks faced perhaps the most arduous circumstances in the N.F.L. Their 2020 schedule included five cross-country flights, which meant they would log more miles than any other N.F.L. team. And when they were home, the Seahawks trained not far from Kirkland, Wash., the nation’s first coronavirus “hot spot.”

This made the Seahawks witnesses to the pandemic well before the season kicked off, and its grim toll made them question whether football could be played safely. Sam Ramsden, the team’s director of player health and performance, cared for his wife, Lisa, in March, when, doctors believe, she had Covid-19, the disease caused by the virus.

“I didn’t really imagine the N.F.L. being able to have a full season,” Ramsden said. “I wasn’t a Debbie Downer about it, I was just trying to be realistic.”

Starting in late spring, after the N.F.L. began plowing ahead with plans for the 2020 season, Ramsden, Coach Pete Carroll and other team leaders used a combination of pragmatism, flexibility and gamesmanship to duck, bob and weave through the pandemic.

With training camps, the first in-person football activities of the season, set to open in late July, each team appointed an infection control officer to coordinate efforts to reopen its facilities. Ramsden, who has worked for the Seahawks for 22 years, took on the role rather than giving it to the head athletic trainer, who he felt would be too busy handling injuries.

Ramsden has an easygoing patter that belies his attention to detail, and his quiet intensity is a counterpoint to that of Carroll, a hands-on coach known for out-of-the-box ideas. Throughout the pandemic, Carroll pushed Ramsden for answers to problems. At other times, he deferred to his expertise. Carroll also did his own research, and floated ideas to Ramsden and others about minimizing exposure.

Like other teams, the Seahawks installed dividers in the showers and between lockers. To avoid crowding, two auxiliary locker rooms were added, and large rooms and practice fields were turned into meeting spaces. Ventilation systems were upgraded. Tents were set up outside for safer dining. Carroll had windows that could open installed in his office to increase air flow.

People in the organization took on extra tasks. The team’s football operations department created a schedule for who would be tested and when. (Almost 36,000 tests were ultimately given.) Each morning, trainers and others handed out sensors made by a German company, Kinexon, that tracked how close players, coaches and staff members were to one another and for how long. The hospitality staff members who usually managed corporate and internal events collected health questionnaires from people arriving at the facility. The travel coordinator made sure the team’s drivers were tested and buses were disinfected. On the road, a total of 139 players, coaches and staff rode to and from games and airports in seven buses instead of the usual four.

“It was like a band of brothers,” said Ramsden, who wore a T-shirt a few days each week that read, “Stay Negative or Stay Home.”

When they were at their team facility, the Seahawks ordered food with the Notemeal app on their phones, rather than stand in line in the cafeteria (where congregating unmasked led to transmissions on other teams). On road trips, the team asked hotel kitchens to use the app as well, something other teams adopted. (...)

Wide receiver Tyler Lockett considered opting out before the season because of a heart condition. He was born with the aorta on the right side of his heart, instead of the left, and had needed medical clearance to play before he was drafted in 2015. Ultimately, he chose to play this season because the N.F.L. was testing players every day, a protocol that Carroll pushed the league on early and loudly when executives did not initially embrace the idea.

The Kinexon devices told Ramsden when players and staff members were within six feet of one another for more than five, 10 and 15 minutes. They even recorded interactions between people separated by walls. To keep people moving, Ramsden had the facility’s intercom chime every 12 minutes.

Still, remaining vigilant inside the facility and outside it by not eating out or shopping wore on Lockett and others. “For me, and for a lot of guys, it felt like we actually played two seasons,” he said. “That’s how stressful it is just to make sure that you have to live up to these protocols that we have just to make sure we’re safe.”

The Seahawks’ protocols, though, didn’t extend to family and friends, who still posed an exposure risk, and they didn’t prevent false positive tests, which occurred often at the start of the regular season in September. That set Carroll off on a search for a way to verify test results.

Around Labor Day, with three news channels playing on his office TVs, Carroll saw Gupta, who works at the Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation at the University of Washington, on MSNBC describing a device that provided reliable test results in under an hour. The coach later called the doctor to get more information on using the kit to provide a backup to the tests analyzed by BioReference Laboratories, the diagnostics company hired by the N.F.L.

“I was struck by how involved he was,” said Gupta, who advised the Seahawks during the season. “He really wanted to understand the science.”

The Seahawks bought four test kits made by Mesa Biotech, which cost several hundred dollars each, and had doctors at the Virginia Mason Medical Center in Bellevue, Wash., use them to test family and friends of the team more than 750 times. Out-of-town visitors had to be tested immediately upon arriving in Seattle, remain in a hotel for 24 hours and get a second test. Only those who tested negative twice could see a player, coach or staff member.

by Ken Belson, NY Times |  Read more:

Image: Sam Ramsden by Nicole Boliaux for The New York Times

[ed. This is one of those articles where it really pays to watch the accompanying video. If you're having trouble with the paywall, try cookie remover.]

The Senate Has Become a Dadaist Nightmare

This week, congressional Democrats advanced a budget resolution — the first step in using the filibuster-proof budget reconciliation process to pass President Biden’s $1.9 trillion fiscal rescue plan. I recognize that is not the most thrilling start to a column. But now that Senators Joe Manchin and Kyrsten Sinema have pledged their undying fealty to the filibuster, the budget reconciliation process is where Biden’s agenda will live or die. Oy, is that depressing.

Budget reconciliation reveals the truth of how the Senate legislates now. To counter the minority’s abuse of the filibuster rule, the majority abuses another rule, ending in a process that makes legislation systematically and undeniably worse. The world’s greatest deliberative body has become one of its most absurd, but that absurdity is obscured by baroque parliamentary tricks that few understand.

“Budget reconciliation.” It sounds sober, important and official. But it’s farcical — or it would be, if the consequences weren’t so grievous.

It’s understood, by now, that the filibuster has mutated into something it was never intended to be: a 60-vote supermajority requirement on almost all legislation considered by the United States Senate. I have made my case against the filibuster in detail before, and I won’t repeat it here. Suffice to say, in a closely divided Senate, with highly polarized parties, it’s almost impossible to get 60 votes on major legislation. But there’s a workaround, and that workaround is getting both wider and dumber.

The budget reconciliation process was created in the Congressional Budget Act of 1974. It was an afterthought: an optional process to let Congress quickly clean up its spending plans so they matched the budget. No one even used it until 1980. But as the Senate was stalled by more frequent filibusters, clever legislators realized that the budget reconciliation process was immune to the filibuster, as it was limited to 20 hours of debate, and all kinds of bills could be routed through it.

In response, Senator Robert Byrd persuaded his colleagues to pass new rules to ensure budget reconciliation remained true to its original purpose. These rules, formally enshrined in the Budget Act in 1990, impose a series of tests on budget reconciliation bills. The most consequential are that every individual provision of the bill must alter taxes or spending, and not in a “merely incidental” way; the bill cannot increase deficits after the budget window, which is usually around 10 years; and the bill cannot muck with Social Security. Any senator can challenge any provision of any budget reconciliation bill for violating these rules. The parliamentarian then rules on the question, and if the parliamentarian rules for the challenger, the provision is struck from the bill. (The Senate can choose to ignore the parliamentarian, just as they can vote to change any Senate rule. That hasn’t happened yet where budget reconciliation is concerned, but it may soon. More on that later.)

Byrd’s reforms didn’t work as he intended. The problem of the filibuster demanded a solution, and even covered in “Byrd droppings,” budget reconciliation was the closest thing to an alternative. The Byrd rules didn’t prevent non-budgetary legislation from being passed through reconciliation, but they did make that legislation worse, and weirder, and the Senate has simply decided to live with the ridiculous results, and make the rest of us live with them, too.

President George W. Bush’s tax cuts, for instance, were designed to expire — expire! — after 10 years because otherwise they would have increased deficits after 10 years, and so been ineligible for reconciliation. President Donald Trump’s tax cuts employ the same trick. This is a legacy of budget reconciliation: Massive chunks of our tax code are just set to disappear at an arbitrary point in the future, and what happens then is anybody’s guess.

The distortions don’t end there. Budget reconciliation warps policy design by pushing away from regulation and toward direct spending and taxation. An example: If you were designing a health care bill in budget reconciliation, you couldn’t pass a rule saying private insurers had to cover pre-existing conditions. But you could add a trillion dollars to Medicaid funding so it could cover anyone with pre-existing conditions who couldn’t get private insurance. Or to use an example that is actually in the reconciliation package Democrats are designing now: You can pass $1,400 checks through budget reconciliation, but you can’t pass emergency paid leave. When Congress writes laws through budget reconciliation, it writes them with one arm tied behind its back.

Even worse is the way budget reconciliation quietly decides which kinds of problems the Senate addresses, and which it ignores, years after year. Both House and Senate Democrats have said that their first bill will be the “For The People Act,” a package making it easier and safer to vote, and weakening the power big donors wield in politics by matching small donor donations at a 6:1 rate. But the “For The People Act” can’t pass through the budget reconciliation process, so it’s a dead letter.

“Why should it only take a simple majority to do tax cuts for the rich but it takes a supermajority to address the integrity of our elections?” Senator Jeff Merkley, a Democrat from Oregon, told me. “That makes no sense. Access to the ballot shouldn’t have a higher hurdle than helping the rich get richer.” But in today’s Senate, it does. The same is true for gun control or immigration reform.

But budget reconciliation doesn’t just alter liberal priorities. Social conservatives often complain that when Republicans hold Congress, their legislative asks are shunted aside for tax cuts and health care repeal laws. That is, in part, a budget reconciliation issue: You can pass tax cuts and (partially) repeal Obamacare through budget reconciliation. You cannot regulate pornography or push school prayer through the process.

You can also only do a limited number of budget reconciliation packages each fiscal year. That forces legislators to craft giant bills that jam every legislative priority into one rushed package, rather than crafting one bill, debating and modifying it, and then passing it and moving onto the next.

“I find it ironic that people suggest reconciliation is somehow better for the institution,” Adam Jentleson, former deputy chief of staff to the former Senate majority leader, Harry Reid, and the author of the excellent new book, “Kill Switch: The Rise of the Modern Senate and the Crippling of American Democracy,” told me. “It’s terrible for the Senate!” As he notes, budget reconciliation decreases the power of committees and increases the power of the Senate leadership, “since leadership drives the assembly line for putting together these mega-packages. There’s no transparency and it creates a field day for lobbyists.”

In 2012, Steven Teles, a political scientist at Johns Hopkins University, published a paper arguing that American public policy had become defined by kludges. “The term comes out of the world of computer programming, where a kludge is an inelegant patch put in place to be backward compatible with the rest of a system,” he wrote. “When you add up enough kludges, you get a very complicated program, one that is hard to understand and subject to crashes. In other words, Windows.”

Or, the Senate. The modern use of budget reconciliation is a kludge. The institution has become paralyzed by the filibuster and rather than rewriting its rules to solve that problem, senators have instead patched it through budget reconciliation. The Senate gets just enough done that no one can say it is actually impossible to pass big bills through the body. But budget reconciliation narrows the range of problems Congress can solve, the number of bills it can pass and the policy mechanisms it can use. No one would ever design a legislative body that worked this way, but this is how the Senate has come to work, one kludge on top of another. “For any particular problem we have arrived at the most Gerry-rigged, opaque and complicated response,” Teles wrote. That is both an apt description of today’s Senate and of the kind of policy budget reconciliation produces.

All of this is a choice. Every Senate rule can be changed by a simple majority vote. A simple majority could end or reform the filibuster — as we saw when Democrats ended it for most executive branch nominations and most judicial nominations in 2013, and when Republicans ended it for Supreme Court nominees in 2017. The details quickly get complicated, but a simple majority of senators could vote to loosen some of the limits on budget reconciliation, as Senator Bernie Sanders, the new chair of the Budget Committee, has suggested. The Senate is bound by nothing but its own convictions.

But this is a Senate that, collectively, has no convictions. It does not believe enough in the filibuster’s 60-vote threshold to simply abide by it. It does not believe enough in passing bills by a simple majority to make that the standard. It is the self-styled moderates, like Manchin and Sinema, who freeze the institution in dysfunction, but there is nothing moderate about the modern Senate: It is radical in its inanity, a legislative chamber designed by dadaists.

by Ezra Klein, NY Times |  Read more:

Image: Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images

Not All Millennials: ​Generational Wealth and the New Inequality

Peddlers of self-help and pop-psychology are quick to assure us that we’re each our own toughest critic. In fact, it’s often our peers who will exact the harshest judgments, being best positioned to sniff out the social cues and latent hierarchies that are most legible within a shared milieu. Last year, Pete Buttigieg, the only millennial candidate in the Democratic Presidential field, failed to win the support of other members of his generation (which is also mine) — a February 2020 poll of 18-34 year olds placed him at a pitiful 6%. The résumé stacked with institutional achievement felt a little too polished, and he was widely regarded with the kind of disdain reserved for teachers’ pets. Columbia students called him “the old man’s millennial,” the kind of ideal young person that our parents measure us against: Harvard, Rhodes scholarship, military service, McKinsey, not quite so politically radical.

Pitted against AOC for the title of Anointed Millennial Politician, he simply didn’t stand a chance. Setting aside the charisma differential, Ocasio-Cortez is an avatar of the leftist politics that has become de rigueur for a large chunk of our economically disenfranchised generation. Her commitment to progressive issues is the product of a lived experience that can’t be replicated by the shrewdest political strategists: famously, she was working as a bartender when she was elected to Congress; when she moved to DC, she struggled to afford rent. Critics have investigated the value of her childhood home and other such clues in an effort to challenge this narrative of precarity, but the specifics hardly matter. Where Buttigieg represents an outdated fantasy of meritocratic accomplishment, Ocasio-Cortez’s story is millennial realism. (...)

Widening income and wealth inequalities, and millennials’ dim economic prospects, have led the media to reevaluate its initial verdict on the generation. First, we were entitled, distracted avocado toast addicts who couldn’t budget. But the past few years have seen an increasingly sympathetic shift, as even the bootstrap scolds have been forced to admit that structural factors might be impacting our generation’s failure to meet expected benchmarks of middle-class adulthood. Publications that were once obsessed with admonishing us became obsessed with declaring our economic prospects hopeless. “The Coronavirus Means Millennials Are More Screwed Than Ever,” wrote The Daily Beast in May, a month after The Atlantic declared, “Millennials Don’t Stand A Chance.” Definitively, from The Washington Post: “Millennials are the unluckiest generation in U.S. history.”

Generational insiders have worked hard at narrativizing this predicament: Anne Helen Petersen most recently posited “burnout” as the dominant affective response to skyrocketing precarity and worsening prospects amid constantly multiplying demands on our time, attention, and labor in her viral article-turned-book Can’t Even: How Millennials Became the Burnout Generation. If our toothbrushes (Quip), mattresses (Casper), suitcases (Away), and novels (Sally Rooney) match, so too, we are given to believe, do our emotional states. “The weight of living amidst that sort of emotional, physical, and financial precarity is staggering,” she writes, describing a condition of exhaustion battling the steady impetus to do more. In 2017, Malcolm Harris’s Kids These Days: Human Capital and the Making of Millennials offered the most thorough accounting yet of the structures underpinning millennial psyches. He explains the way that the forces of neoliberalism, with its imperative to optimize profitability in every facet of life, have set millennials on an impossible and unending racecourse. His book is now frequently cited alongside Petersen’s; in The Nation in November, Jeremy Gordon wrote that the two “draw on a similar body of evidence to demonstrate how and why we got here, because the facts aren’t really up for debate.” Many bleak statistics, which hardly need repeating at this point, bear that sentiment out. Millennials control 4 percent of aggregate wealth, compared to the Baby Boomers’ 21 percent at the same age, and in the era of precarious employment (47 percent of millennials freelance either some or all of the time), we can’t and won’t earn our way out of that hole.

These books, and the slew of accompanying articles, have illuminated the millennial experience and identified the structural barriers we face, drawing a direct line from our debts, wages, and shattered expectations to policy choices made in the last few decades. They have also been used in service of a flattening narrative that creates a frame around our generation and a shorthand for a shared experience that is frequently gestured at, even when it’s not necessarily earned. Last summer, Rachel Connolly put her finger on the way that a distinct “we’re all in this together” ethos papers over intra-generational class distinctions. “Those who stand to inherit substantial wealth will complain they are crippled by the high cost of rent,” she writes, “and those with rich and famous parents will speak, darkly, of “hustling” their way into the industries in which their relatives work.” I immediately recognized in her description the discreet millennial landlords and “broke” trust-funders I’ve met, and I’d venture to guess that I’m not alone.

The millennial social condition is analogous to the one that has arisen during the pandemic: despite a wildly unequal material reality, essential workers, the unemployed, and those with cushy remote jobs have all experienced a brutal lifestyle disruption, a severe narrowing of options, and a blow to mental health and happiness. Almost across the board, millennials will do worse than their parents, inheriting a harsher and more difficult world, but not all of us will experience this in the same way. For a generation that has developed a complex language and conceptual rubric for privilege, it’s curious that this phenomenon has yet to receive as much attention, that the authenticity tests we’ve administered to Buttigieg and Ocasio-Cortez have not yet translated to a broader reckoning with what’s coming.

***

Some millennials are already receiving financial help from their parents (in fact, many: the Times reported one estimate that “more than half (53 percent) of Americans ages 21 to 37 have received some form of financial assistance from a parent, guardian or family member since turning 21.”) Others can soon expect a life-altering infusion of cash, either in the form of posthumous bequests or transfers — like help with a down payment — made while parents are still alive. These gifts have become more significant than ever now that the wage labor market can no longer serve as a corrective to unevenly distributed parental wealth. Yet another group may see its economic position shift later in life: after struggling to pay the bills until age 50 or later, outcomes will suddenly diverge even among those who hold the same job.

The financial industry is calling the coming shift a “great wealth transfer.” Morgan Stanley has referred to it as the “$30 Trillion Challenge” after one study specified that amount as the sum of wealth that will pass into millennials’ hands between 2031 and 2045. Their advisors are standing at the ready: “Morgan Stanley is committed to helping this generation prepare for its inheritance and achieve the amazing,” reads their website. CapitalOne/United Income predicts $36 trillion; Cerulli Associates places their estimate at $68 trillion; PNC Bank predicts $59 trillion; Wealth-X says $15 trillion by 2030. Regardless, The Economist wrote in October, “Wall Street will soon have to take millennial investors seriously.” Forbes wrote in 2019 that “Millennials Will Become Richest Generation In American History As Baby Boomers Transfer Their Over Wealth,” the same year that the Times asked, “A ‘Great Wealth Transfer’ Is Coming. What Will It Mean for Art?” 

 

by Kiara Barrows, Drift |  Read more:

Image: Emma Kumer

Lanai

Image: markk

Inside the Mind of Jeff Bezos

Inside the mind of Jeff Bezos and the World Amazon Made (The Guardian)

Amazon robots transport packages from workers to chutes at an Amazon warehouse in Goodyear, Arizona, 2019. Photograph: Ross D Franklin/AP

Listen to a Forest: Tree.fm

Tree.fm is a website where you can listen to a randomly-selected forest.

Remember Forests? People around the world recorded the sounds of their forests, so you can escape into nature while in lockdown or unable to travel. Use this site to chill, meditate or do some digital shinrin-yoku.

Image: USA, Alaska, East area of Denali National Park and Preserve, recorded by Davyd Halyn Betchka

[ed. And: if cities and police scanners are more your thing (with ambient music), check out You Are Listening To...]

The Secret to Getting Rid of Snakes: You Can’t

We homeowners spend thousands of dollars, dozens of hours and thousands of gray hairs trying to eliminate the destructive household pests to which we are not related by blood or marriage. While mice, termites and squirrels can frequently be managed using conventional extermination methods, I recently learned that one household pest won’t be managed.

As pests go, snakes don’t cause much property damage, but there is no reliable way to stop them from hanging out and terrorizing you.

I have always hated snakes. They, unfortunately, love Shed Mahal, the renovated horse shed where I began working remotely during the pandemic. One day, a snake slithered across the rug and scared the bejesus out of me. Another snake visit happened several days later. Then they started showing up daily.

With total snake annihilation top of mind, I called Exterminator Guy, with whom, due to our home’s mouse and ant situations, we enjoy a committed, long-term relationship. I suggested burning the Shed Mahal to the ground, or detonating a small neutron bomb that would take out the Snake Family but leave Shed Mahal intact. Amazingly, such a thing doesn’t exist.

Exterminator Guy said the proven solution was a “snake gate.” It is a device that lets the snakes check out of the crawl space they colonized under the Shed but not back in, like a Roach Motel® in reverse. He sealed up the holes in the Shed Mahal’s foundation using an expanding foam-type stuff, installed the gate in the main hole I’d seen the little buggers use and bid me “bonne chance.”

Two weeks and zero snake sightings later, Guy returned victorious, removed the snake gate, and filled the final hole with the expanding foam-type stuff. I returned to my desk, one eye constantly scanning the re-caulked baseboards for snake incursions.

A week passed. No snakes. I began to relax.

Then the smell started—the aroma, I believed, of a village of dead snakes. It appeared that the snake gate wasn’t the one-way passage to snake freedom we were sold, but instead confined the entire Snake Family under the Shed to die a slow and extremely smelly death.

Fortunately, both the smell and my guilt were gone within a week.

Then one day, I saw it: the biggest Daddy Snake I have ever seen. It was lying in the grass, watching me as I approached the Shed. He was about 6 feet away from the door. Would he lunge? Could he lunge? I paused.

“Sorry about the family,” I said.

Then, I swear on all things holy, the snake gave me stink eye.

Snake gates weren’t gonna cut it. I needed the big guns.

I phoned J. Whitfield “Whit” Gibbons, one of the world’s leading snake experts and professor emeritus at the University of Georgia, a state that knows what’s up when it comes to snakes. I described my predicament and asked what more I could do to stop what was clearly shaping up to be some sort of a coordinated assault on Shed Mahal by the snake community to exact retribution for their blood sacrifice.

“There is no way you can seal up a foundation tight enough to keep them out or in. That wasn’t snakes you were smelling,” Dr. Gibbons said between snorts. “It was probably mice. Those snakes are still in there for sure. They can go for months without eating, so why would they die? The record for a snake in captivity is two years without any food. Why are you afraid of them?”

“They are snakes,” I said. “In my office.” (...)

The conversation proving less than fruitful for my purposes of total snake annihilation, I called Steve A. Johnson, an associate professor and snake expert at the University of Florida. I asked him what I should do.

“Move your office back into the main house,” said Dr. Johnson. “You’re asking for it. A horse barn is a perfect place for wildlife.”

“Really?” I asked. “I should just give up?”

“Ya. Or you could stay, and if you see the same snake twice, you can name it. We have to learn to live with wildlife. They’re part of our environment. They’re just trying to make a living and get by just like we are. We have our spaces and they have theirs and usually everyone can get along when everyone stays on their side of the wall.

“But have you thought about putting up a sign that says ‘No snakes allowed in here?’ ” he asked through a barely stifled giggle.

They say that you must be the change you want to see in the world. So I went back to working in the Shed with my new legless, armless office-mates, Fluffy, Snuggles and Jeff. I treat them as unpredictable, potentially dangerous pets, or relatives whose political views differ from mine. I am learning to accept differences that once felt insurmountable and to live in peace. But I swear if one of them slithers over my feet, I’m burning Shed Mahal to the ground.

by Kris Frieswick, WSJ | Read more:
Image: Christina Spano

Off The Rails

Last month, Axios published "Off the rails," a series taking you inside the end of Donald Trump's presidency, from his election loss to the deadly Jan. 6 Capitol insurrection that triggered his second impeachment — and a Senate trial set to begin next week.

In this bonus edition, we take you back into those final weeks — to one long, unhinged night a week before Christmas, when an epic, profanity-soaked standoff played out with profound implications for the nation.

Four conspiracy theorists marched into the Oval Office. It was early evening on Friday, Dec. 18 — more than a month after the election had been declared for Joe Biden, and four days after the Electoral College met in every state to make it official.

"How the hell did Sidney get in the building?" White House senior adviser Eric Herschmann grumbled from the outer Oval Office as Sidney Powell and her entourage strutted by to visit the president.

President Trump's private schedule hadn't included appointments for Powell or the others: former national security adviser Michael Flynn, former Overstock.com CEO Patrick Byrne, and a little-known former Trump administration official, Emily Newman. But they'd come to convince Trump that he had the power to take extreme measures to keep fighting.

As Powell and the others entered the Oval Office that evening, Herschmann — a wealthy business executive and former partner at Kasowitz Benson & Torres who'd been pulled out of quasi-retirement to advise Trump — quietly slipped in behind them.

The hours to come would pit the insurgent conspiracists against a handful of White House lawyers and advisers determined to keep the president from giving in to temptation to invoke emergency national security powers, seize voting machines and disable the primary levers of American democracy.

Herschmann took a seat in a yellow chair close to the doorway. Powell, Flynn, Newman and Byrne sat in a row before the Resolute Desk, facing the president.

For weeks now, ever since Rudy Giuliani had commandeered Trump’s floundering campaign to overturn the election, outsiders had been coming out of the woodwork to feed the president wild allegations of voter fraud based on highly dubious sources.

Trump was no longer focused on any semblance of a governing agenda, instead spending his days taking phone calls and meetings from anyone armed with conspiracy theories about the election. For the White House staff, it was an unending sea of garbage churned up by the bottom feeders.

Powell began this meeting with the same baseless claim that now has her facing a $1.3 billion defamation lawsuit: She told the president that Dominion Voting Systems had rigged their machines to flip votes from Trump to Biden and that it was part of an international communist plot to steal the election for the Democrats.

[Note: In response to a request for comment, Powell said in an emailed statement to Axios: “I will not publicly discuss my private meetings with the President of the United States. I believe those meetings are privileged and confidential under executive privilege and under rules of the legal profession. I would caution the readers to view mainstream media reports of any such conversations with a high degree of discernment and a healthy dose of skepticism.”]

Powell waved an affidavit from the pile of papers in her lap, claiming it contained testimony from someone involved in the development of rigged voting machines in Venezuela.

She proposed declaring a national security emergency, granting her and her cabal top-secret security clearances and using the U.S. government to seize Dominion’s voting machines.

"Hold on a minute, Sidney," Herschmann interrupted from the back of the Oval. "You're part of the Rudy team, right? Is your theory that the Democrats got together and changed the rules, or is it that there was foreign interference in our election?"

Giuliani's legal efforts, while replete with debunked claims about voter fraud, had largely focused on allegations of misconduct by corrupt Democrats and election officials.

"It's foreign interference," Powell insisted, then added: "Rudy hasn't understood what this case is about until just now."

In disbelief, Herschmann yelled out to an aide in the outer Oval Office. "Get Pat down here immediately!" Several minutes later, White House counsel Pat Cipollone walked into the Oval. He looked at Byrne and said, "Who are you?"

The meeting was already getting heated.

White House staff had spent weeks poring over the evidence underlying hundreds of affidavits and other claims of fraud promoted by Trump allies like Powell. The team had done the due diligence and knew the specific details of what was being alleged better than anybody. Time and time again, they found, Powell's allegations fell apart under basic scrutiny.

But Powell, fixing on Trump, continued to elaborate on a fantastical election narrative involving Venezuela, Iran, China and others. She named a county in Georgia where she claimed she could prove that Dominion had illegally flipped the vote.

Herschmann interrupted to point out that Trump had actually won the Georgia county in question: "So your theory is that Dominion intentionally flipped the votes so we could win that county?"

As for Powell's larger claims, he demanded she provide evidence for what — if true — would amount to the greatest national security breach in American history. They needed to dial in one of the campaign's lawyers, Herschmann said, and Trump campaign lawyer Matt Morgan was patched in via speakerphone.

By now, people were yelling and cursing.

The room was starting to fill up. Trump's personal assistant summoned White House staff secretary Derek Lyons to join the meeting and asked him to bring a copy of a 2018 executive order that the Powell group kept citing as the key to victory. Lyons agreed with Cipollone and the other officials that Powell's theories were nonsensical.

It was now four against four.

Flynn went berserk. The former three-star general, whom Trump had fired as his first national security adviser after he was caught lying to the FBI (and later pardoned), stood up and turned from the Resolute Desk to face Herschmann.

"You're quitting! You're a quitter! You're not fighting!” he exploded at the senior adviser. Flynn then turned to the president, and implored: "Sir, we need fighters."

Herschmann ignored Flynn at first and continued to probe Powell's pitch with questions about the underlying evidence. "All you do is promise, but never deliver," he said to her sharply.

Flynn was ranting, seemingly infuriated about anyone challenging Powell, who had represented him in his recent legal battles.

Finally Herschmann had enough. "Why the fuck do you keep standing up and screaming at me?" he shot back at Flynn. "If you want to come over here, come over here. If not, sit your ass down." Flynn sat back down.

by Jonathan Swan, Zachary Basu, Axios | Read more:
Image: Sarah Grillo/Axios. Getty Images photos: Tom Williams/CQ-Roll Call, Jabin Botsford/The Washington Post, George Frey/Bloomberg

Wall Street Thanks You For Your Revolution

I’m on record having said I am thrilled to see small investors having made some big money on GameStop and AMC and the rest of the heavily-shorted stocks they’ve ridden to glory this year. It’s about time some of the spoils of the stock market rally have been better distributed.

But that doesn’t mean this will necessarily end well. And it certainly doesn’t mean that all (or even most) large Wall Street firms are mad about what’s going on. In fact, some of them are downright elated.

Let’s start with high frequency traders (like Virtu Financial) and market makers (like Citadel) – they love this. Millions of random people coming in to trade stocks for the first time, without regard to spreads, prices, time of day, order routing, etc. It’s Sesame Street meets Wall Street. This is where these firms make all their money.

Virtu Financial is publicly traded and the company feasts on two things – volatility and the easily harvestable trading mistakes of other players. They’re getting a major influx of both things at once right now and you can see the company’s stock price racing back up to its prior high, which occurred during the massive volatility of 2018. (...)

For HFT firms and market makers, volatility + volume = profits. Wall Street does not feel attacked by this, outside of the long-short hedge fund complex (which definitely does). If anything, Wall Street’s entrenched interests are very heavily rewarded by all this activity – because Wall Street does not pick sides. They get paid by both sides of the trade and make even more money when there is a scramble to lay off risk. “Wall Street” is not one of the roosters in this cockfight, Wall Street is the f***ing ring.

And then off Wall Street there’s this whole other complex of large players who are also feasting on this recent barrage of retail trading acrobatics. They’re not appearing on television or tweeting, they’re ringing the register. “Sold to you, Reddit and TikTok, and by all means please keep buying.” You will not hear anyone say this out loud. They don’t need even need to say it among themselves. There’s a lot of smiling and winking going on; there will be no electronic traces of a knowing smirk when the inevitable crash happens and the regulators shout CUI BONO? for the television cameras. 

Petition writes about the supposed stock market “revolution” brought about on internet message boards these past few weeks. It turns out that a few unimportant hedge funds were blown up, but most of the real beneficiaries of the madness are not kids. They’re gigantic private equity firms, bondholders and landlords.

For example, the massive technology and media-oriented PE firm Silver Lake Partners just saw their AMC debt holdings swing from a loss of $200 million to a gain of $100 million on paper, as a result of the stock’s rapid rise. The company was able to raise hundreds of millions of dollars by selling stock and then re-engineer their various loans and liabilities thanks to the enthusiasm of the amateur equity buyers.

Except none of this seems to be taking into account that while, sure, shorts like Melvin Capital and Citron Research got smoked by a bunch of RedBull-IV’d basement traders,** plenty of other Wall Street-y institutions are having what seems like heaps of fun getting in on the F*cking. We mean, we’re looking at Silver Lake Partners — a private equity firm WITH $72B UNDER MANAGEMENT — and, call us crazy, but they’re, like, a private equity firm. They seem to be right up there with those targeted by WSB. We’re sure they were thinking about the “little guy” when they converted their debt into equity and systematically dumped their equity holdings (as the price ascended, of course) into the market while also ridding themselves of their $100mm 10.5% first lien notes, completely severing ties to AMC while the market drooled all over itself…

Note the average price per share! Reuters tallies the sale proceeds at $713mm. We would check that math and/or calculate the IRR but, frankly, we are afraid our tech will spontaneously combust and/or Johnny may throw himself out the window in a fit of disbelief, frustration and jealousy (with maybe a pinch of admiration). Suffice it to say, they did alright.

Sold! To the man-child eating chicken tenders at 2 o’clock in the afternoon! Next auction!

by Joshua M. Brown, The Reformed Broker |  Read more:

Image: uncredited

[ed. See also: Five questions for the Congressional hearings on GameStop, Reddit and Robinhood (RB); and, just generally: Stimulus, More Stimulus and Taxes (Big Picture).]

What is Reconciliation?

Reconciliation is a rule that was included when Congress rewrote budget rules in 1974. The goal was to allow Congress to pass a new budget resolution with new spending priorities and quickly pass the legislation to reflect the needs of the moment. The Congressional Research Service, a nonpartisan research group in Congress, reports reconciliation was first used in 1980 and has been used to pass 25 reconciliation bills.

That process allows the party in control of Congress to pass most big-dollar legislation with a simple 51-vote majority in the Senate without having to worry about a filibuster.

Congressional Democrats say they've heard Biden's calls for bipartisanship, but they're setting up a budget work-around — just in case.

"By the end of the week, we will be finished with the budget resolution, which will be about reconciliation, if needed," House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, D-Calif., told reporters last week. "I hope we don't need it. But if we need it, we will have it."

For years, Congress mostly used reconciliation for deficit reduction, said Zach Moller, deputy director of economic programs at the center-left think tank Third Way and a former Democratic staffer on the Senate Budget Committee.

In recent years, though, reconciliation has become a popular tool to get big partisan bills passed when one party has full control of Washington. Democrats used reconciliation to pass some health care changes in 2010, and Republicans used it to pass tax cuts in 2017, as well as in their failed attempt to repeal the Affordable Care Act during Donald Trump's presidency.

"This is a way to find a way to change spending and revenue that does not have to deal with the partisan gridlock," Moller said. "It's not a backdoor process; it's more like express lanes on the highway. It's a way to get you where you want to go, sometimes faster, oftentimes with less congestion."

But there are some pretty significant road blocks along the road to reconciliation.

A speedy but treacherous path

Budget reconciliation isn't as simple as adding policies to a budget bill and passing that legislation with 51 votes in the Senate.

The process starts with a budget resolution that includes special rules and procedures for reconciliation.

Typically, Congress only gets one shot at reconciliation each year, because they are only allowed to pass one budget for each fiscal year.

This year is different. The previous Congress did not pass a budget for 2020, which means Democrats have the chance to attach reconciliation instructions to a 2020 budget and a 2021 budget, if they can agree on what those budgets should include.

Once they agree on a budget, simple majorities in the House and the Senate have to pass the same language. Then, the clock starts for reconciliation and things can move quickly.

There's a time limit on debate in the Senate, and there's no filibuster when the clock runs out.

"This is the secret sauce of budget reconciliation — the fact there's a 20-hour time clock for the budget reconciliation measure," Moller said. "It's a lot smoother, and you don't have to deal with the filibuster, because at the end of the time, they just start taking votes."

Has to be about government spending

There are a few things that lawmakers have to keep in mind. Reconciliation only applies to policies that change spending — the money the federal government pays out — or revenue — the money the federal government takes in.

Some things, like the Social Security program, can't be altered.

Those initial guard rails are important because if the lawmakers writing the reconciliation bill get them wrong, the whole process can fall apart.

by Kelsy Snell, NPR |  Read more:

Image: Doug Mills/Pool/Getty Images
[ed. See also: GOP senators release details of $618 billion COVID relief package (Axios); and The Senate Has Become a Dadaist Nightmare (NYT).]

Foo Fighters 25 Years Later, Still Roaring

Dave Grohl has done so much throughout his career — drummed for Nirvana, arguably the biggest band of its generation; led Foo Fighters, one of the most successful acts of the last three decades; sold out Wembley Stadium, twice; played on the White House lawn; interviewed the sitting president of the United States; broke his leg during a show and finished the show with the broken leg; entered the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, with another induction likely on the way; recorded with both living Beatles; appeared on “The Muppets,” also twice — that when you ask him what’s left, he takes a moment.

“That’s one of those things that I think of every morning when I wake up,” Grohl, 52, said during a recent interview, his long, brown hair streaked with gray and tucked behind his ears. “What have we not done? What could we do today?”

Without missing a beat, he recalled a moment years ago when he was “really hot” to play the Super Bowl. A pure thought experiment for most artists, but not him: “Well, let’s call the Super Bowl” was the next step, he recounted with a smile.

The talks, though there were a few of them, petered out. But could you blame him for thinking it could happen — that one could simply wish to play the Super Bowl, and a couple of phone calls later, play for 100 million viewers? Over the last 25 years, Foo Fighters have steadily grown from a one-man solo project into a bona fide rock institution. “It’s almost like we’re farmers, and the field just keeps growing,” Grohl said of the band’s stacking accomplishments. “Then we harvest it, and then it grows some more, and then we harvest it and it grows some more.”

Though their music has spanned the spectrum of what was once considered “alternative,” the Foos have become comfortably associated with a style of adrenalizing, heavy-footed hard rock, doled out in concerts that commonly stretch past the two-hour mark. While that sound has enabled the band to build a lucrative business — their worldwide tour behind the 2017 album “Concrete and Gold” grossed $114 million, per the industry trade Pollstar — rock hasn’t led the record business in more than a decade. The band hasn’t charted a Top 40 single since 2007.

Yet Foo Fighters occupy a rare space as a band with mainstream appeal, led by an undeniably famous star who does not yet feel like an elder statesman. Blessed with relentless energy and a robust contacts list, they’re called upon whenever rock music with joy and gravitas is required, whether it’s David Letterman’s final late-night show, an all-star Prince tribute at the Grammys, a benefit for musicians financially affected by coronavirus, the Kennedy Center Honors or a Democratic presidential fund-raiser. No matter where Foo Fighters show up, they always make sense.

This is partly a result of consistency — by sticking around, without courting controversy, and releasing numerous hit songs with staying power, Foo Fighters have become recognizable to multiple generations. Nirvana remains an important band for successive iterations of young people, and Grohl will always be a member. But whereas the rock stars of yesteryear loomed as unapproachable icons, Grohl feels like a relatable Everyman, someone you could actually have a beer with. And as the years have worn on, and more of his peers have died or receded from the spotlight, he has kept going, a survivor of his old band, his era, and trend after trend after trend. None of which seems to have lessened his indefatigable positivity, all of which he channels into summoning that rock ’n’ roll communal catharsis, whenever required.

Their new album, “Medicine at Midnight,” out Friday, is a subtle but distinct pivot. Without shedding their traditional distorted guitars and expansive howling, the Foos have consciously incorporated dance and funk rhythms into their new songs, influenced by artists like David Bowie and the Rolling Stones who did the same.

The irony of dropping their dance record when live music remains indefinitely postponed wasn’t lost on anyone, including Grohl, who remains the band’s driving creative force. He wasn’t shy about his ambition when we talked, but that friendly demeanor belies the monomaniacal focus required to be so productive. Hard work is not a very stereotypically rocking trait, and yet the Foos have averaged a new album every three years since the beginning, and rarely go dormant for more than a few months at a time. “He doesn’t flutter with his ideas,” said the keyboardist Rami Jaffee, who started playing with the band in 2005 and joined as a full-time member in 2017. “It’s just full-speed ahead.”

The drummer Taylor Hawkins was more direct. “I want to be the biggest band in the world,” he said. “There’s no [expletive] question, and so does Dave. I think he always did.”

Without a tour to embark on, the Foos spun up a promotional blitz across the internet. Grohl, along with the “Medicine at Midnight” producer Greg Kurstin, put out a series of Hannukah-themed covers of Jewish musicians like Drake and the Beastie Boys; he engaged in a viral drum battle with the 10-year-old British musician Nandi Bushell; he started an Instagram account where he tells long, funny stories from his life; the band has dipped into livestreamed performances; they got together in the same room for “Times Like Those,” where they provided running commentary for a photographic slide show culled from the band’s 25 years together. There are also plans to release a documentary about touring in vans, and one member let slip something about a separate movie project.

GROHL’S LONG JOURNEY through the music industry began in the mid-80s, when he dropped out of high school to drum for the Washington, D.C., hard-core band Scream. After it disbanded, he was invited to audition for the open drummer slot in Nirvana, then an up-and-coming Seattle-based band. Not long after, Nirvana recorded and released “Nevermind,” an industry-topping smash that tilted the axis of mainstream taste toward angsty rock.

Butch Vig, who produced the 1991 “Nevermind,” recalled Kurt Cobain hyping up Grohl as “the world’s greatest drummer,” and being blown away by the force of his playing in the studio. “But the thing that struck me was he had this unbelievable energy to him — he brought so much life and power to the band, but also some levity,” Vig said. “As the band evolved, and became this massive success, I could see a lot of the weight of the world being internalized in Kurt, and Dave continued to bring a sense of humor and joy to what Nirvana was doing.”

After Cobain’s 1994 suicide, Grohl was offered several other drumming jobs, including a full-time role with Tom Petty, but decided to pursue his own solo project: Foo Fighters, its name cribbed from a World War II phrase for U.F.O.s. He ended up playing every instrument on what would become the group’s 1995 debut album and recruited the ex-Nirvana guitarist Pat Smear, as well as the bassist Nate Mendel and the drummer William Goldsmith of the proto-emo group Sunny Day Real Estate to form a touring band.

From the beginning, the specter of Nirvana hung over Grohl’s new endeavor. Fans at early Foo shows would clamor to hear “Marigold,” a Grohl-sung Nirvana B-side, and speculate freely about any potential reference to Cobain’s death in his lyrics. But Grohl found a way to take it in stride, which was no easy thing. “We carried that on our backs from the first rehearsal,” he said. “The last thing you want in any situation is, upon first meeting someone, have them ask you a question about the most painful time in your entire life.”

by Jeremy Gordon, NY Times | Read more:
Image: Magdalena Wosinska for The New York Times

Is Keanu Reeves Sandra Bullock's Son?

Is Keanu Reeves Sandra Bullock’s Son? (Snopes)

Image: Ron Galella/Ron Galella Collection via Getty Images

[ed. The #1 trending topic on Snopes' myth-busting website. (I grieve for humanity) However this quote by Carl Sagan did check out:]

One of the saddest lessons of history is this: If we’ve been bamboozled long enough, we tend to reject any evidence of the bamboozle. We’re no longer interested in finding out the truth. The bamboozle has captured us. It’s simply too painful to acknowledge, even to ourselves, that we’ve been taken. Once you give a charlatan power over you, you almost never get it back.

A Chance to Redeem Journalism

What the next editor of the Washington Post (or the New York Times) should tell reporters.

The newly announced resignation of Washington Post executive editor Marty Baron, the abrupt stepping-down of Los Angeles Times executive editor Norman Pearlstine in December, and the highly anticipated departure of New York Times executive editor Dean Baquet (one hopes imminently) combine to create an epic moment of reckoning for these highly influential news organizations.

A new generation of leaders is coming! And they have a lot of urgent repair work ahead of them. That includes abandoning the failed, anachronistic notions of objectivity under which they have operated for so long, recognizing and rejecting establishment whiteness, and finding dramatically more effective ways to create an informed electorate.

Nowhere are those challenges more critical than when it comes to reporting about politics and government. So as my way of helping out, I've written a speech for the next boss to give to their political staffs. It goes like this:

Hi!

It's so nice to be here. I'm looking forward to working with all of you amazing reporters and editors. You've all shown you're capable of incredible work, and I respect you enormously.

But at the same time, my arrival here is an inflection point.

It's impossible to look out on the current state of political discourse in this country and think that we are succeeding in our core mission of creating an informed electorate.

It's impossible to look out at the looming and in some cases existential challenges facing our republic and our globe — among them the pandemic, climate change, income inequality, racial injustice, the rise of disinformation and ethnic nationalism — and think that it's OK for us to just keep doing what we've been doing.

So let me tell you a bit about what we need to do differently.

First of all, we're going to rebrand you. Effective today, you are no longer political reporters (and editors); you are government reporters (and editors). That's an important distinction, because it frees you to cover what is happening in Washington in the context of whether it is serving the people well, rather than which party is winning.

Historically, we have allowed our political journalism to be framed by the two parties. That has always created huge distortions, but never like it does today. Two-party framing limits us to covering what the leaders of those two sides consider in their interests. And because it is appropriately not our job to take sides in partisan politics, we have felt an obligation to treat them both more or less equally.

Both parties are corrupted by money, which has badly perverted the debate for a long time. But one party, you have certainly noticed, has over the last decade or two descended into a froth of racism, grievance and reality-denial. Asking you to triangulate between today's Democrats and today's Republicans is effectively asking you to lobotomize yourself. I'm against that.

Defining our job as "not taking sides between the two parties" has also empowered bad-faith critics to accuse us of bias when we are simply calling out the truth. We will not take sides with one political party or the other, ever. But we will proudly, enthusiastically, take the side of wide-ranging, fact-based debate.

While we shouldn't pretend we know the answers, we should just stop pretending we don't know what the problems are. Indeed, your main job now is to publicly identify those problems, consider diverse views respectfully, ask hard questions of people on every side, demand evidence, explore intent and write up what you've learned. Who is proposing intelligent solutions? Who is blocking them? And why?

And rather than obsess on bipartisanship, we should recognize that the solutions we need — and, indeed, the American common ground — sometimes lie outside the current Democratic-Republican axis, rather than at its middle, which opens up a world of interesting political-journalism avenues.

Political journalism as we have practiced it also too often emphasizes strategy over substance. It focuses on minor, incremental changes rather than the distance from the desirable or necessary goal. It obfuscates rather than clarifies the actual problems and the potential solutions.

Who's winning today's messaging wars is a story that may get you a lot of tweets, but in the greater scheme of things it means nothing. It adds no value. It's a distraction from what matters to the public. It also distracts you from more important work.

Tiresomely chronicling who's up and who's down actually ends up normalizing the status quo. I ask you to consider taking as a baseline the view that there is urgent need for dramatic, powerful action from Washington, not just when it comes to the pandemic and the economic collapse, but regarding climate change and pollution, racial inequities, the broken immigration system, affordable health care, collapsing infrastructure, toxic monopolies and more.

Then you get to help set the national agenda, based on what your reporting leads you to conclude that the people want, need and deserve.

by Dan Froomkin, Salon |  Read more:

Image: Eric Baradat/AFP via Getty Images
[ed. Another call for more professionalism, which we definitely need. But how did good journalism become so rare that it needs this kind of reminding (over and over)? Shouldn't this be like, basic? As long as media business models rely on clicks for revenue it'll always be a race to the bottom, and good journalism, even in the idealized version imagined above, has to compete with a diverse (and expanding) media landscape, across multiple platforms. We'll see.]

Bryan Schutmaat, Tonopah, Nevada, from the series Grays the Mountain Sends, 2011
via: American Geography

[ed. See also: An Era of Emergencies is Upon Us and We Cannot Look Away (LitHub).]

via:

Cancer Precisely Diagnosed Using a Urine Test and AI

Prostate cancer is one of the most common cancers among men. Patients are determined to have prostate cancer primarily based on PSA, a cancer factor in blood. However, as diagnostic accuracy is as low as 30%, a considerable number of patients undergo additional invasive biopsy and thus suffer from resultant side effects, such as bleeding and pain.

The Korea Institute of Science and Technology (KIST) announced that the collaborative research team led by Dr. Kwan Hyi Lee from the Biomaterials Research Center and Professor In Gab Jeong from Asan Medical Center developed a technique for diagnosing prostate cancer from urine within only 20 minutes with almost 100% accuracy. The research team developed this technique by introducing a smart AI analysis method to an electrical-signal-based ultrasensitive biosensor.

As a noninvasive method, a diagnostic test using urine is convenient for patients and does not need invasive biopsy, thereby diagnosing cancer without side effects. However, as the concentration of cancer factors is low in urine, urine-based biosensors are only used for classifying risk groups rather than for precise diagnosis thus far.

Dr. Lee's team at the KIST has been working toward developing a technique for diagnosing disease from urine with an electrical-signal-based ultrasensitive biosensor. An approach using a single cancer factor associated with a cancer diagnosis was limited in increasing the diagnostic accuracy to over 90%. However, to overcome this limitation, the team simultaneously used different kinds of cancer factors instead of using only one to enhance the diagnostic accuracy innovatively.

The team developed an ultrasensitive semiconductor sensor system capable of simultaneously measuring trace amounts of four selected cancer factors in urine for diagnosing prostate cancer. They trained AI by using the correlation between the four cancer factors, which were obtained from the developed sensor. The trained AI algorithm was then used to identify those with prostate cancer by analyzing complex patterns of the detected signals. The diagnosis of prostate cancer by utilizing the AI analysis successfully detected 76 urinary samples with almost 100 percent accuracy.

"For patients who need surgery and/or treatments, cancer will be diagnosed with high accuracy by using urine to minimize unnecessary biopsy and treatments, which can dramatically reduce medical costs and medical staff's fatigue," Professor Jeong at Asan Medical Center said. "This research developed a smart biosensor that can rapidly diagnose prostate cancer with almost 100 percent accuracy only through a urine test, and it can be further used in the precise diagnoses of other cancers via a urine test," Dr. Lee at the KIST said.

by National Research Council of Science & Technology, Phys.org | Read more:
Image: Korea Institute of Science and Technology (KIST)

[ed. Not sure what an electrical-signal-based ultrasensitive biosensor is. We'll see how it performs in more widespread trials.]

Defund the Global Policeman

Since Memorial Day, when cops in Minneapolis murdered George Floyd, thousands of protesters across the United States have demanded that their elected officials “defund the police.” It is difficult to imagine Donald Trump affirming, rather than mocking, this call. Yet in 2018 the President made a surprise Christmas visit to troops stationed at Ayn al Asad Air Base, in Iraq’s Anbar Province, and declared that the United States would cease to be the “policeman of the world.”

Trump was not the first President to make such a declaration. All three of his predecessors made similar claims about reining in the global policeman, a term that usually refers to the US propensity to deploy its naval armadas, spy satellites, infantry battalions, and supersonic jets to regulate distant disputes. Trump further claimed, during his visit to the air base, that other countries were “going to have to start paying for it,” meaning for US protection. If Trump didn’t want to entirely defund the global policeman, he at least wanted others to foot the bill. But this wish betrayed a misunderstanding of the way that the United States projects force overseas. The US global policeman functions in four primary ways. Three are relatively well known: first and most obvious, there are direct military operations launched from the approximately eight hundred US bases around the world, such as Trump’s drone strike on the Iranian military commander Qasem Soleimani; second, there are joint operations and advisory missions, which President Obama expanded dramatically in Africa and the Middle East; and third, there are arms exports, highlighted by the Trump-Ukraine scandal. The fourth and perhaps least-discussed method is “security assistance,” which the US offers to dozens of countries, and which consists of training and technical upgrades for other nations’ military and police forces.

It is through security assistance that the United States puts the police in global policeman — a project that the country uses to manipulate others into achieving its own geopolitical goals. Far cheaper and less flashy than typical US military missions, security assistance’s primary domains of action are nonmilitary: terrorism and narcotics trafficking. In addressing these threats, the United States sends the militaries of the countries it aids on missions that look much more like law enforcement than combat. Increasingly trained in biometrics and forensics and reliant on predictive algorithms, soldiers are assigned to control borders, stop smuggling, eradicate drug crops, and prevent terror attacks.

If US security assistance is turning soldiers around the globe into cops, it is also sending US police experts around the globe to work with uniformed police in dozens of countries. The global policeman relies on local policemen. In addition to the troops Clinton, Bush II, and Obama placed on the ground and the air strikes they ordered, each committed to deploying police experts to other countries. Such commitments are diffuse and open-ended. As a result, the global policeman seems to run autonomously. No single agency controls the numerous programs that compose the colossus. Each day the global policeman assembles itself anew through the work of hundreds of global policemen (and policewomen): current and former US police officers who train, equip, and advise other countries’ police. Cops have become frontline US diplomats. Policing today is a triumph of globalization.

As many hope for a post-Trump future, reenvisioning US foreign policy seems possible, even if Senator Bernie Sanders — the Democratic candidate who was most critical of the way the United States acts as global policeman — is no longer in the running for the White House. Figuring out how to disassemble the global policeman, a common goal among many on the left, will require understanding what it is, how it evolved, and why it remains so intractable. Yet most existing critiques of the global policeman by liberal or centrist Democrats focus on its disorganization, hoping that US foreign policy can be rationalized to better align means and ends, accepting rather than transforming or rejecting the imperative of US primacy. This technocratic critique of the messy bureaucracy of security assistance amounts only to an attempt to apply a finer chisel, not a hammer, to the policing colossus.

The most widespread political uprising in the United States in decades, spurred by Floyd’s killing, provides guidance for a different approach. Calls to defund the police reject incrementalism in changing how police operate because they repudiate police primacy on city streets. These calls often issue from an abolitionist framework that would divest from coercive state violence and invest in new institutions to promote human flourishing within a new social covenant based on racial and social justice. The problem with US foreign policy — represented in the figure of the global policeman — is that it is like a fully resourced police department in a time of dwindling fears of crime: robustly equipped with sophisticated tools to answer any exigency with force, even as the strategic and political value of using such lethal force recedes. Just as the uprisings urged cities to find ways to resolve conflicts without bullets or batons, they also show it is time for the country to relinquish its status as global policeman. Whether at home or abroad, doing so will require forfeiting a reliance on cops as the universal solvent for social problems. (...)

The Globalization of US policing both extends outward and reverberates inward. Today’s global policeman may be the world’s largest organism with no brain or nervous system. The operations of this acephalous being exceed enumeration, in part because reporting requirements are thin and often ignored. But it has several identifiable tentacles.

by Stuart Schrader, N+1 |  Read more:

Image: Yarisal & Kublitz, Another Peel Another Deal. 2014

[ed. See also: Demilitarizing Our Democracy (Tom Dispatch). Excerpt:]

This month’s insurrection at the Capitol revealed the dismal failure of the Capitol Police and the Department of Defense to use their expertise and resources to thwart a clear and present danger to our democracy. As the government reform group Public Citizen tweeted, “If you’re spending $740,000,000,000 annually on ‘defense’ but fascists dressed for the renaissance fair can still storm the Capitol as they please, maybe it’s time to rethink national security?”

At a time of acute concern about the health of our democracy, any such rethinking must, among other things, focus on strengthening the authority of civilians and civilian institutions over the military in an American world where almost the only subject the two parties in Congress can agree on is putting up ever more money for the Pentagon. This means so many in our political system need to wean themselves from the counterproductive habit of reflexively seeking out military or retired military voices to validate them on issues ranging from public health to border security that should be quite outside the military’s purview.

It’s certainly one of the stranger phenomena of our era: after 20 years of endless war in which trillions of dollars were spent and hundreds of thousands died on all sides without the U.S. military achieving anything approaching victory, the Pentagon continues to be funded at staggering levels, while funding to deal with the greatest threats to our safety and “national security” — from the pandemic to climate change to white supremacy — proves woefully inadequate. In good times and bad, the U.S. military and the “industrial complex” that surrounds it, which President Dwight D. Eisenhower first warned us about in 1961, continue to maintain a central role in Washington, even though they’re remarkably irrelevant to the biggest challenges facing our democracy.

Fanny Hagdahl Sörebo
via:

Never Forget

The Horrors: A Catalog of Trump's Worst Cruelites, Collusions, Corruptions, and Crimes.

The Complete Listing: Atrocities 1-1,056

Early in President Trump’s term, McSweeney’s editors began to catalog the head-spinning number of misdeeds coming from his administration. We called this list a collection of Trump’s cruelties, collusions, and crimes, and it felt urgent then to track them, to ensure these horrors — happening almost daily — would not be forgotten. This election year, amid a harrowing global health, civil rights, humanitarian, and economic crisis, we know it’s never been more critical to note these horrors, to remember them, and to do all in our power to reverse them.
- - -
Various writers have compiled this list during the course of the Trump administration. Their work has been guided by invaluable journalistic resources, including WTFJHT, NPR, the New York Times, the Washington Post, and other sources, to whom we are grateful.

ATROCITY KEY

– Sexual Misconduct, Harassment, & Bullying
– White Supremacy, Racism, Homophobia, Transphobia, & Xenophobia
– Public Statements / Tweets
– Collusion with Russia & Obstruction of Justice
– Trump Staff & Administration
– Trump Family Business Dealings
– Policy
– Environment
- - -
JUMP TO JANUARY 2021
JUMP TO 2020
JUMP TO 2019
JUMP TO 2018
JUMP TO 2017
- - -
by John McMurtrie, Ben Parker, Stephanie Steinbrecher Kelsey Ronan, Amy Sumerton, Rachel Villa, and Sopie DuRose, McSweeny's |  Read more:

[ed. To download a PDF of this entire list, click here.]

[ed. It's like being held hostage for the last four years.]

Tawaraya Sotatsu, Four Seasons Flowers and Flowers Senzai Wakamaki
via: