The first time I met country superstar Toby Keith, back in 2013 at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo, he dared me to eat a worm. This wasn’t a random case of peer pressure—Keith had a vested interest. The worm in question sat in a red Solo cup beneath a couple ounces of Wild Shot mezcal, a brand he had just launched, and I was writing a Forbes cover s…

Munchausen by proxy is one of the things I have frequently seen suggested as being behind the phenomenon of the rise of the young “trans child”. I’ve even seen it rather pithily called “transhausen by proxy” by the daring people of Twitter. As it is so often mothers who support these transitions, and as we have seen them being shockingly pro-interventionist about their offspring, in “trans child” support groups (through leaked screenshots) it intuitively feels like this might be a real answer to the question of why this is happening.

There’s no angle or twist here, just very straightforward: there’s been a rise in memes on Instagram (and I’m sure other places, I just only look at Instagram) that make a lot of statements about trauma and PTSD, and it does not seem responsible to me to make or share those memes. Trauma and PTSD are immensely complicated, and the quality of conversation about them on social media and in digital media generally is jargon-heavy, information-poor, and generally deeply irresponsible.

(Photo courtesy Toho Co. Ltd.) 69 years ago the world was introduced to Godzilla. The titular 1954 film was a shocking reinvention of the giant monster movie, a nuclear allegory blunt in message but beautifully told in story. Ishiro Honda and his team not only invented an iconic creature but took the time to show just how devastating its rampage could be. Not even a decade removed from the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Godzilla was a horror film first and foremost, with the monster both the attacker and the victim.

Hollywood sequels that fail to live up to the original movie weave a tired old tale, but there is something particularly wretched about the follow-ups to the galactic brilliance of The Bad News Bears. Every few years, I rewatch the original. Everything in that movie works, except for how badly — how very badly — Tanner Boyle’s presumably inherited racism has aged. Otherwise, each time I return to the film, I expect to be betrayed by my memories, only to come away even more impressed.