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By Debra Perron / Calgary, Alberta My family and I live in often sunny, sometimes chilly Calgary, more than 2,000 miles northwest of New York. Located near the Rocky Mountains, our city has a population of over 1.4 million, Here, as in most places in Canada, being called an American has become the worst insult a Canadian can dump upon a fellow resident. Quiet, peaceful, generally non-gun-toting Canada– it is a polite (usually), kind (mostly), hockey-loving (always) nation. I have lived my life as an American citizen in Canada. Growing up in Sarnia, a Canadian border town, I saw that Canadians often end their sentences with "eh". I saw that my American parents had "an accent"... my father said "RUF", while my friends more "Canadianly" referred to a house covering as a "ROOF". But those were the biggest differences back then between the Canadian and American cultures for me. And truly, I do not recall any negativity from either country until the U.S. lost its collective mind, and re-elected Donald Trump as President. I never felt I needed to hide my citizenship from anyone here in Canada...until the President of the United States unilaterally decreed last year that America needed to own Greenland, and Canada should become the 51st State. Suddenly, I found myself avoiding discussing my place of birth, and chanting "Elbows up. “ Elbows up” traditionally meant “be ready to defend yourself” or “stand your ground.” It comes from hockey, where players would raise their elbows to protect themselves or fight back. In today’s Canada, though, it has also become a slogan meaning resistance, toughness, and national pride. My (Canadian) husband and I now actively shop Canadian labels at the grocery store, and as we saw our neighbourhood (yes, I know, you spell it "neighborhood"!) peppered with Canadian symbols, we put a Canadian flag in our kitchen window. It's not about hating Americans. It is about Canadians holding tight to an identity that feels increasingly under threat from an orange man who believes he should be king. This does not mean Canadians never debate immigration or other important national policy. But the tone of that debate matters. There is still civil discourse in this country. Canada experiences natural disasters–we've seen our share of floods, wildfires, and the melting of polar ice caps. But Trump's battle against windmills has become a sad national joke, and it brings Canadians together more firmly against our neighbour to the south with respect to climate denial. There is a genuine fear among Canadians that the U.S. is presently led by an uneducated, ineffective businessman, who ignores clear evidence of the need to protect our environment. While Canada is not free from political polarization, the majority of Canadians expect government officials to work across the aisle. Because of this, those who say they want an uncompromising, winner-takes-all approach in politics are often described as "too American"– a warning, not a compliment. That being said, Canadians do identify with some item that are 100 percent of and for this country. Canada's national symbols tell a story that is practical, quirky, and if I may say, typically Canadian. We do not rally around the powerful symbolism of eagles or lions. Canada treasures the beaver, a buck-toothed rodent. The beaver's industrious nature and landscape-transforming abilities reflect Canadian values of hard work and adaptation. Beavers represent the foundations upon which Canada was built. And beavers are kinda cute. And then there's The Timbit–a donut hole that captures Canadian hearts. It was a simple product innovation in 1976, when Tim Horton’s launched Timbits as a way to use leftover donut dough, transforming what could have been waste into a national treasure. The Timbit represents Canada's ability to elevate a simple, unpretentious thing to iconic status. There's no explanation required when a Canadian orders a Timmy's "Double Double" (Tim Horton's coffee with two creams and two sugars) and "a Timbit Sixpack.” Canadians use the terms so naturally that they forget they're not universal. The Double-Double is actually referenced in the Canadian Oxford Dictionary, though most Americans still need a quick translation Canadians are famously polite, but Americans often find their apologizing a bit excessive. A Canadian might say sorry if someone else bumps into them, if asking a question, or even just for sharing space. This habit runs so deep that the Province of Ontario passed a law in 2009 stating that an apology doesn't count as an admission of guilt in court. Ask a Canadian how far away a place is, and they'll likely say "about two hours" instead of giving an actual distance. It makes sense in a country where long drives between cities are the norm, but Americans find it annoyingly vague. Americans want to know if it's 50 or 150 miles, while Canadians only care how long they'll be driving. It's even more confusing since Canada uses kilometers officially but measures travel in time, creating a system that works here, but befuddles travelers! Canadians have a strict No-Shoes-Indoors Rule that many Americans find a bit much. My American parents never got used to that. Canadians see wearing shoes inside anyone's home as downright rude, no matter how clean the shoes may be. The habit began for practical reasons, since snow/ salt/ slush is an actual Canadian season. Personally, in our home. the choice of shoes or no shoes is left up to our guests, but I'd wager that most Canadians (and now we too) slip off shoes at the front door. So, here it is in a nutshell: We live in Canada, which is part of North America. We accept that the Gulf of Mexico is NOT the Gulf of America. Canadians are NOT Americans. Wind turbines do NOT kill birds. If Trump and his minions would just go away, I do believe that we could get back to being civil neighbours/neighbors again, with renewed cross-border shopping, increased tourism without fear of ICE reprisal, and successful cooperation between our countries to save our planet together. So, Dear United States of America, soon you will be celebrating your 250th Anniversary, celebrating no longer having a king. Accordingly, anything we can do to assist in the exit of your present ‘king wannabe’, just let us know. We’ll bring the Timbits. The author and her husband Steve Perron Debra is happily retired in Alberta, Canada, with her husband, Steve and their dog Keita. She stays in touch with family and friends who still reside in the U.S., and keeps a spare room available in her home for anyone who needs an escape from the chaos in Trumpland. She buys local, supports kindness, and looks forward to visiting wondrous places in the United States…once Trump is exiled to join the penguins on McDonald Island.

By Andy Borowitz May 12, 2026 Andrew Caballero-Reynolds/AFP via Getty Images WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—An awkward scene unfolded at Tuesday’s Cabinet meeting after JD Vance covered a seemingly unresponsive Donald J. Trump with a sheet. His eyes closed and head slumped forward, Trump had been motionless for over seven minutes before Vance gently shrouded him. “We have lost a great president and a great American,” said Vance, speaking to his colleagues from prepared remarks. “No one can hope to fill his Florsheims, but from this day forward I will strive to—” “Get away from me!” Trump bellowed as he threw off the sheet. “You’re the bastard who killed the Pope!”

By Jessie Seigel / Washington, D.C. Originally appeared in My Washington Whispers on May 13, 2026 Southern Poverty Law Center's civil rights memorial Our country has finally slammed through Alice’s looking glass. Evil is good. Good is evil. The Trump regime, which is backed by white supremacist extremists and in return backs them—even giving pardons to January 6 terrorists so they can continue to terrorize—has just indicted the Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC), claiming it secretly used its donors’ money to promote that extremism. The indictment alleges wire fraud, false statements and conspiracy to commit money launder in support of the activities SPLC publicly opposes. Specifically, the indictment claims that SPLC “secretly funneled more than $3 million in donated funds to individuals who were associated with various violent extremist groups including: the Ku Klux Klan; United Klans of America; Unite the Right; National Alliance; National Socialist Movement; Aryan Nations affiliated Sadistic Souls Motorcycle Club; National Socialist Party of America (American Nazi Party); and American Front.” The sliminess of this indictment is unspeakable. For those who are not familiar with SPLC, that organization has done more than any other, except perhaps the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), to make white supremacist hate groups pay legally for their actions. For decades, SPLC has tracked, infiltrated, and exposed violent hate groups across the nation. As early as the 1980s, while the federal government sat on its hands, SPLC brought civil suits against the Ku Klux Klan and Aryan Nations on behalf of their victims. Its win in one early case bankrupted the Alabama Klan, putting it out of business. Has SPLC, over the years, compensated informants who have infiltrated, attended extremist gatherings, provided them with internal documents, and reported to them on the activities of violent hate groups? Yes. But as former prosecutor, law professor, and MSNOW contributor Joyce Vance has written: Prosecutors have presented those facts as evidence that the SPLC enabled extremism, when in fact, they suggest the SPLC was just very good at executing its mission. Infiltrating criminal operations only works if the group is unaware that the source is cooperating with law enforcement, or in this case, a private entity collecting information. That part is obvious. And informants frequently continue participating in organizations while providing intelligence; that’s what makes them so valuable. This isn’t evidence of the SPLC’s ideological alignment with the hate groups it works to expose. It is the entire premise of undercover and intelligence operations. The SPLC has a long history of cooperating with and offering training to law enforcement agencies. Over the years, it has provided them information on the history, background, leaders and activities of far-right extremist groups. But this administration is in bed with right wing extremists. It is supported by them. It appears to employ them or those who are fellow travelers. So, is it any wonder, then, that Kash Patel’s FBI and Todd Blanche’s so-called Department of Justice (DOJ) would now target the SPLC? In response to the DOJ's indictment, SPLC has filed two motions. The first asks the court to address false statements by the government and to enforce rules prohibiting the government from making prejudicial statements outside of the court proceeding. The second motion points out the likelihood that DOJ’s false statements led to the indictment by grossly misleading the Grand Jury. One example cited by SPLC: The indictment repeatedly alleges the SPLC sought to promote the Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville, Virginia in August 2017 … Acting Attorney General Blanche said publicly that the government had ‘no information’ that ‘suggests that’ the SPLC ‘then turned around and shared what they learned with law enforcement’ from the informant program.' However, as Joyce Vance adroitly has pointed out, not only does SPLC's motion maintain that they did share what they learned with law enforcement, “they seem to have the receipts—the FBI’s Mobile, Alabama field office, the same office whose agents worked on the criminal indictment, received a 45-page intelligence product from SPLC before the rally.” In other words, Trump’s DOJ is adding SPLC to its malicious pursuit of spurious indictments against all opponents, already including Senator Mark Kelly, former FBI Director James Comey, and New York Attorney-General Letitia James. And, in the case of SPLC, bringing Trump’s tactic of projection—accusing his opponent of what he himself actually has done—to a new low. One must ask, what organization will be next--the Anti-Defamation League? The American Civil Liberties Union? It is likely that this sham prosecution will fail. But it constitutes yet another political abuse of power in the Trump regime's battle to silence any who oppose its reconstitution of a white supremacist state. Jessie Seigel’s journalistic career began with the political Washington Whispers column, written for The Insider. Since The Insider ended its run in 2023, Seigel has continued the column as My Washington Whispers, www.mywashingtonwhispers.com. In addition, Seigel has had a long career as a government attorney, has received two Artist’s Fellowships from the Washington, D.C. Commission on the Arts and Humanities for her fiction, has been a finalist for several literary awards, and has had professional staged readings of her plays, Tinker's Damn, and The Three Jessies. More on Seigel can be found at www.jessieseigel.com.

From The Tucker Carlson Show

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By Lydia Hope Wilen / New York City & Stan Fischler / North Golan Heights, Israel Stan Fischler grew up in Brooklyn, as did Lydia Wilen. They met briefly in their borough in 1963 when Stan, a newspaper reporter interviewed Lydia, a comedy writer for stand-up comedian Jackie Mason. Then they reconnected, this time romantically, about 60 years later. If you read their original story, The Maiden and the Maven, in the March 11 issue of the Insider, you’ll know all about this modern fairy tale. So where do Stan and Lydia go from here? Back to Brooklyn comparing memories of their lives in the 1940s. To know what life was like during Stan’s formative years in Williamsburg, Lydia started reading his 2021 memoir, Tales of Brooklyn. It had a unique effect on her, bringing back long-forgotten flashbacks from her formative years in East Flatbush. Stan has had a love affair with the New York City subway system, starting when he was knee-high to a cockroach. (Who knew from grasshoppers in Brooklyn?) And so, his passion is honored by having him take up most of this article as he and his grandson go for an historic ride on the subway. Lydia’s very different subway experience is after Stan’s amorous account. Riding the Rails with Stan The Q Line originally was known as the Brighton Express. In its own speedy way, it was the flagship run of the BMT Lines.. In Manhattan it ran from 57th Street station then south, over the Manhattan Bridge into Brooklyn. When my 11-year-old grandson, Ezra Fischler, came to New York City his Zeyde (Yiddish for grandpa) thought it would be a good idea to take him for a subway ride from Manhattan to Coney Island. Being that Ez is from Portland, Oregon, he couldn’t imagine how thrilled I was that I got a “Let’s do it” faster than a Spaldeen bounces off a stoop. We had to board the Q train, which used to have a more romantic name when I was a lad. In my knickers-wearing days of the early 1940s it was known as the Brighton Beach Express. Final stop: Coney Island. (What could be better than that?) Seeing that his grandpappy was all pumped up, Ezra asked that logical question: “Tell me, Zed, what should I be looking for and when?” Good question. I explained that after barreling downtown, our steep stainless steel 10-car behemoth would break out of the cavernous tunnel and climb to daylight as we roll over the Manhattan Bridge, and so it did. “Hey, Zeyde,” Ez chirped as two light beams from an oncoming Q train flashed by us en route to the other side of the Big Apple. The author and his grandson, Ezra, through the years “You’re now in Brooklyn where Zeyde grew up,” I point out as our Q dipped under Fulton Street, heading south toward Coney. “Watch how fast we go.” I could tell that Ez was digging it when the Q surfaced at Prospect Park, climbed from the open cut, up the hill, past the Avenue H station and sped to Coney. There was a lot to tell my grandson; I knew I’d never be able to get it all in. "When I was your age, Ez, the tracks were connected to one another," I explained, "and when the Brighton Express went real fast and it sounded like this (I pushed my tongue back and forth in my mouth) click-clack-click." Ez said he couldn't hear it. "Well, that's because they use welded rails now, so the ride is much smoother; but it took the fun out of the ride for your Zeyde." There was plenty more fun especially when the kid's optics turned wide as our Q screeched around the 90-degree curve over Brighton Beach Avenue and the Coney panorama greeted him. Ez knew in advance that we'd have no time for the amusements and had to turn around and make it back for family eats. An hour later, we returned to our Upper West Side apartment for dinner and the question that I couldn't wait to ask: "So, Ezra, how did you like the subway?" "I loved it." Then, a thoughtful pause: "But I kinda think I'd like it better in those days when the Q wasn't even a Q and you could hear that click-clack-click all the way to Coney!” Lydia’s Turn Five-year-old Lydia, safe on a seat in her own home Zip-Up-Your-Doo-Dah On one no-kindergarten day for five-year-old me, my mother and I went to the city, then took the IRT Lexington Avenue Line back to Brooklyn. We both got seats. From my end-seat, I was able to see part of the shielded door that my mother wasn’t able to see. As we were getting closer to our Eastern Parkway stop in Brooklyn, a man got on the train, stood in my line of sight and started waving something I had never seen before. Eww. It looked strange. I told my mother about it. As soon as I said, “…and it’s coming out of his pants,” my mother grabbed my arm, pulled me out of my seat and dragged me to the other side of the car, warning the passengers, “There's a man exposing himself near the door.” By the time the men in the car got to the door to catch the creep, the train was at a stop and the sicko got off (in more ways than one). Once we got home, I went to my little desk, took out my crayons and drew a picture of what I saw. I brought it over to my mother and said, “I want to take it to school for Show and Tell.” My mother had a conniption (fit). She sat me down and gave me a lesson in public lewdness and indecent exposure using her extensive anatomical terminology with descriptions like “down there.” Lesson learned. That didn't stop me from decades of subway travel and an appreciation for the great New York City subway system. Now, however, at this stage of my life…“TAXI!” The author, wondering "What's Uber's number?" Lydia Hope Wilen began her professional career as a comedy writer on Personality, a celebrity-driven game show. Her greatest gig was her extremely successful collaboration with her late sister Joany as nonfiction bestselling authors (18 books), which led to the sisters becoming popular TV personalities. They continued as journalists (NY Daily News Sunday full-page feature, Celebrity Surveys for Cosmopolitan Magazine, cover stories for Parade Magazine) and got the opportunity to write and talent coordinate a Nickelodeon series hosted by Leonard Nimoy. The Wilens had an unusually versatile writing range from Reading Rainbow episodes, to off-color comedy skits for Dr. Ruth Westheimer’s TV show, Sexually Speaking, plus three optioned screenplays. And that's just for starters . . . Stan was gifted with a silver hockey stick when inducted into the USA Hockey Hall of Fame by the Islanders in 2020 Stanley I. Fischler (born March 31, 1932) is an American historian of hockey and the New York City subway, as well as a broadcaster, author of over 100 books, and professor. As a broadcaster with MSG, Fischler has won seven Emmy Awards (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stan_Fischler)

By Laurence Lerman / New York City SCREEN TIME This summer at the movies, the biggest titles know exactly what they are: familiar brands, carefully calibrated spectacle, movies engineered to dominate conversation before a ticket is sold. But moving alongside all that industrial certainty is something quieter and less predictable—smaller films, international titles, documentaries, and auteur-driven projects still operating on the possibility that audiences might want discovery alongside reassurance. This is a summer split between the industrial and the individual, between films built to perform and others reaching for something stranger, riskier, or more personal. The machine isn’t going anywhere—it’s too efficient, too polished, too embedded in the culture. But somewhere between the engineered and the unexpected is where the season becomes interesting: when a movie manages, however briefly, to sidestep expectations instead of merely fulfilling them. The Machine If the summer has a backbone, it’s here—films that arrive less as events than as inevitabilities. A new Spider-Man entry, Spider-Man: Brand New Day, doesn’t so much open as continue—another chapter in a story that has learned how to renew itself indefinitely. Toy Story 5 returns to a world that has already said its goodbyes to the series more than once, betting that familiarity can still feel like discovery. And Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu folds a streaming success back into the larger machinery of Star Wars. Pedro Pascal and his wide-eared apprentice investigate some nefarious goings-on in Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu What links these films isn’t just scale, but design. They are built to travel—to open everywhere, to translate instantly, to satisfy expectations that have been carefully cultivated over years, sometimes decades. The pleasure they offer is real, but it’s also calibrated: a balance of novelty and recognition, surprise and reassurance. These are movies that don’t need to ask for your attention; they assume it. And yet, for all their polish, there’s a quiet tension underneath. When everything is engineered to work, the question shifts from whether it succeeds to whether it surprises. The Branded Visionaries If the franchises represent the system at its most efficient, the auteurs occupy a more complicated space—still personal, still distinctive, but no longer entirely separate from the machinery around them. Steven Spielberg, Christopher Nolan, and James Cameron don’t just make movies; they arrive with built-in expectation, their names functioning less as credits than as guarantees. The mysteries of extraterrestrial life unfold for Emily Blunt in Disclosure Day Spielberg’s Disclosure Day, concerning the possible existence of extraterrestrial lifeforms, suggests a return to one of his oldest fascinations—how ordinary life absorbs the extraordinary. Nolan’s The Odyssey renders Homer’s classical tale with the scale and urgency of modern spectacle. Cameron, meanwhile, pivots—at least temporarily—from world-building immersion to a musical concert with the just-released Billie Eilish – Hit Me Hard and Soft: The Tour (Live in 3D), blending performance, technology, and authorship into a single, meticulously engineered experience. Matt Damon is Odysseus in Christopher Nolan’s adaptation of The Odyssey What unites the three projects is not style but stature. These are filmmakers who have turned authorship into brand—whose signatures are strong enough to sell a film before a single frame is seen. And yet even here, the line between the individual and the industrial begins to blur. The Outside Voices If Hollywood’s summer tends toward scale and certainty, the most intriguing counterprogramming often arrives from elsewhere—films that feel less engineered than discovered, less obligated to deliver than free to surprise. Pål Øie’s monster-thriller Kraken from Norway leans into regional specificity, environmental horrors and ancient mythology with the destructive awakening of a giant sea creature, while Kenji Tanigaki’s Hong Kong extravaganza The Furious suggests a more inventive and kinetic sensibility. These specialized genre films aren’t designed to open everywhere at once; they’re built to travel more slowly, gathering attention rather than commanding it. Bárbara Lennie (l.) and Victoria Luengo get real in Amarga Navidad And then there is Spain’s Pedro Almodóvar, whose tragicomedy Amarga Navidad concerning a director of commercials seeking a creativity infusion arrives with unmistakable authorship. Where Hollywood auteurs operate at the edge of the system, Almodóvar has long existed outside it entirely. If the biggest titles promise familiarity, these films offer something rarer: the possibility of not quite knowing what you’re going to get. The Reality Check And then there are the films that step outside the entire equation—no franchises, no fictional worlds, no pressure to scale. Just people, reputations, and the uneasy business of telling the truth about both. This summer’s documentaries arrive as a kind of corrective. E. Jean Carroll revisits her legal battle with Donald Trump in Ask E. Jean Ivy Meeropol’s Ask E. Jean revisits E. Jean Carroll, tracing her path from advice columnist to the central figure in her legal battle against Donald Trump, who has been ordered to pay Carroll more than $88 million in damages across two federal jury verdicts. (These awards have been upheld in appeals courts as Trump seeks to block payment.) Peter Asher: Everywhere Man follows musician/manager/producer Asher from Sixties British Invasion pop through several decades of behind-the-scenes influence. And Flag Day from married couple Andrew and Melissa Shea observes the small farming community of Three Oaks, Michigan, as residents prepare for the nation’s largest Flag Day parade, turning a patriotic ritual into a ground-level portrait of civic life, community identity, and the complicated bonds of American belonging. These titles aren’t trying to dominate a weekend or launch a universe. In a season built on precision and expectation, that lack of calculation can feel almost radical. The red, white, and blue is celebrated in Three Oaks, Mich. in Flag Day Laurence Lerman is a film journalist and a former editor of Video Business--Variety's digital media trade publication. Over the course of his four-decade career, he has conducted one-on-one interviews with just about every major filmmaker working today, from Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino and Clint Eastwood to Kathryn Bigelow, Bernardo Bertolucci, and Werner Herzog. Most recently, he is the co-founder and editor-in-chief of the online review site DiscDish.com, the founder and curator of FilmShul.com, a multi-part presentation on the history of Hollywood and Jewish America, and a commentator on various 4K UHD and Blu-ray home entertainment releases.

By Bonnie Fishman / San Francisco Bay Area The author enjoying beautiful spring flowers in Carmel, California Kale Roberts’ recent article in Mother Earth News says it all: “Spring is the season of new beginnings. After a long and cold winter, the arrival of spring brings a sense of hope and renewal. It's a time when the world comes back to life, and everything feels fresh and vibrant once again.” I couldn’t have said it better. Spring has always been my favorite time of year for so many reasons. When I was a kid, it meant the school year was winding down and summer vacation was on the horizon. In college, it was even more exciting because the semester ended in late April, and we had four whole months not to think about classes or studying. I would look forward to traveling or time spent in northern Michigan without a care in the world. In the Midwest, where I grew up with four seasons, by May we were finally clear of snow and bitter cold weather. Slushy brown snow and gray ice were a thing of the past. Flowers, such as tulips and daffodils, began to peak out of the ground, the fruit trees had beautiful blossoms, trees were greening up with new leaves, and the air smelled so fresh. When I had my gourmet food shop and bakery in suburban Detroit, my store was abuzz then with activity. Particularly from April through June, we catered exciting family events, Mother’s Day celebrations, weddings, and graduations. Here in California, the change in weather is not so drastic. Spring begins in late February or early March and continues until it gets hot, around late June. I have experienced first-hand what Californians call “superbloom,” which sometimes occurs between late February and May. The hills, fields, and forest floors are popping with colors–yellow, purple, white and of course orange and red California poppies, my personal favorite. No matter if you live in the Midwest or on the west coast or anywhere in between, May and June are such a great time of year to spend outside, whether you garden, jog, play racket sports, or even just take a walk. What all of these climates have in common is the promise of rebirth, renewal, and a lift to one’s spirits in the upcoming relaxed summer season. I had hoped this spring would be one of good health, good swimming, good entertaining. But, alas, this year, as with the past four springs, I have a miserable summer lying ahead with a new cancer diagnosis: surgery, chemotherapy, a hospital stay, and a long recovery. These diagnoses have always come after a trip abroad. In 2023, I went to Sweden and returned to the news of breast cancer. In 2024, I went to Morocco and came back facing an aggressive form of lymphoma. In 2025, after sailing down the Danube in June, I immediately had a gastric feeding tube implanted, had a thoracotomy, and spent three months recovering. I just returned in mid-March from my European adventure in London, Paris, and Brussels to learn that the aggressive cancer has come back. After telling my good-natured oncologist about these trips and subsequent diagnoses, he leaned in and said to me “Bonnie, listen to Trump. America first!” We laughed hysterically but really this situation isn’t funny. I’m trying to keep my sense of humor afloat. I’ve already started my stem-cell transplant journey. The science fiction of the past is now here in the present. My T-cells have been harvested and flown to a lab in New Jersey to be genetically modified; after transplantation, they will “eat” the cancer cells, sort of like Pac-Man. My son pondered that if my blood cells were hitting the friendly skies, might I qualify for frequent flyer miles? Nope, I don’t think so! To me, it’s fitting that this medical event is happening in spring, with its promise of new life: mine. There is a high cure rate for the transplant so I’m hanging on to that. Before this all goes down, I’ve been teaching cooking classes, socializing with friends, going to dinner and a movie, and looking forward to some house guests before I enter the hospital in mid-May. I’m also enjoying spring produce. We have a lovely Saturday morning farmers’ market here in our town. It’s not overwhelmingly big, yet they do offer almost everything. Today, I saw beautiful asparagus, snow peas, pea shoots, lush bunches of herbs, and young lettuces. I snapped up some spring peas and spring onions. I’m planning to pair them with gorgeous mint from our garden. A variety of spring onions at our local farmers market. Mint from Bonnie’s garden This is a delicious side dish to any protein you may be serving. It brightens your plate and your palette. Feel free to interchange the mint for dill if that suits you better. I’m also using butter, but olive oil will do just fine. Lastly, if you would prefer to use sugar snap peas, the recipe will still be successful. I particularly enjoyed buying beautiful produce at the market this week because soon I may not feel like eating at all while I recover. I hope you readers have a beautiful spring season and that it renews your spirit. Seize the day and cook some great fresh food! English Peas with Spring Onions and Mint Yield: 8 servings 2 lb. shelled fresh English peas 1 1/2 oz. butter 1 1/4 c. finely sliced spring onion bulbs*, (white part only) 2 garlic cloves, minced 1/2 tsp. sugar 1/2 tsp. salt 1/4 tsp. coarse ground black pepper 1/4 c. fresh chopped mint 1 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice Bring a pot of salted water to a rolling boil. Add peas. Cook for 1 minute. Drain and rinse with cold running water. Drain well; blot with paper towel. Heat the butter in a medium skillet over moderate temperature. Sauté the onions and garlic until softened, but not browned, about 5 minutes. Add the peas, sugar, salt, and pepper. Stir together until peas are heated through. Adjust seasoning. Just before serving, mix in the mint and lemon juice. * If you are unable to find spring onions, substitute with 1 cup finely sliced leeks, white part only. Rinse peas under cold running water. Cut and remove roots. Slice onions in half lengthwise. Slice thinly crosswise. Sauté onions and garlic until softened. Mix peas into the pan and heat through. Bonnie Fishman attended the Cordon Bleu Cookery School in London. Later, she owned and operated Bonnie’s Patisserie in Southfield, Mich. and Bonnie’s Kitchen and Catering in Bloomfield Hills, Mich. She has taught cooking for over 35 years and created hundreds of recipes. She is now living in Northern California.

By Dr. Nancy Fishman / Morgan Hill, Calif. As a student of human behavior, I have lately been fascinated, humored, and often irritably nettled by the many obsessions. I notice among people across all ages and backgrounds. Just the word “obsession” has taken on a life of its own, with variations of strength and focus, filling our vernacular with common references to a growing acceptance of what society has determined is right for us. “Oh! I’m obsessed with this new brand of running shoes!” “I can’t live without my vitamins!” “I am so OCD! I just can’t stop asking Siri for advice! What would I do without her?” Trendy trends have always been an obsession among those who perhaps care about what others think or want to be certain they haven’t missed out on the latest and greatest. When I was at the gym last week, I did not see one person without a water bottle. Let’s talk about water bottles, which seem to have become a fashion appendage. I think of a water bottle as a cross between a pacifier and a security blanket. Don’t leave home without one. According to Grand View Research, the global reuseable water bottle market was approximately $9. 7 billion dollars in 2024 and is projected to reach $$12.6 billion from 2025-2030. Apparently, it’s not enough to just own any ol’ water bottle; some say your water bottle must reflect your self-image. This notion directs people to choose their favorite color and pattern. Most important seems to be the label. Thermos isn’t the only game in town. Its competitors like Yeti, Owala and ThermoFlask are just a few that strive to capture a piece of that giant industry. Counting has also become a serious obsession! How many times a day do you hear people talk about the number of steps they have taken, miles they have run, laps they have swum, glasses of water they have drunk, grams of protein they have consumed? I suspect the basis of these obsessions is our need to be healthy. If we follow the trends, perhaps we will be the healthiest people in the cemetery. Is it merely the people in my orbit, or is the world currently obsessed with news feeds? Whether you get your updates from traditional media outlets like credible newspapers that require multiple sources of corroboration or late night TV hosts, or Internet influencers, how many times a day do you check your phone to find out what’s going on? Are you preoccupied, or obsessed? So, what’s the difference? A preoccupation is when you are deeply absorbed, or rapt in thoughts about a particular subject. An obsession is when thoughts of that subject cause anxiety and become so intrusive that your life is interrupted. Of growing concern are the obsessions of Gen Z, the emerging generation. Currently in my work with young people, I am seeing an alarming combination of three different obsessions that together seem to be responsible for either a delay, or a complete derailing of developmental progress: marijuana, gaming, and social media. Since the legalization of marijuana, there is a societal permission to smoke weed. The quality of marijuana is very different than it was before legalization. Today marijuana is far more potent than it was back in the day. According to American Addiction Center, cannabis is "habit-forming and can lead to a condition known as cannabis use disorder or addiction." Not long ago, both in-patient and out-patient addiction treatment programs were filled with alcohol and drug addiction patients; there were virtually no marijuana users. Today about 20% of treatment programs are filled with people who need help withdrawing from marijuana use. Though marijuana is not as addictive as opiates, it still causes impairments and users make destructive decisions. The second of the three obsessions is on-line gaming. Young people who allow this seemingly innocent pastime to become a preoccupation or an obsession are prone to withdraw from activities in the outside world. They prefer to stay in their rooms and play games on-line with people whom they’ve never met face-to-face. This choice may feel less pressured than trying to function socially in the outside world. But the problem is that the longer they stay in the gaming bubble, the further behind they become socially and the less likely they are to want to climb out of that rut. The third preoccupation is social media, which can give young people a false sense of involvement. They seem inclined to follow trendsetters, called influencers, as if they were proper role models for healthy choices. Influencers with the help of AI and Siri, encourage young people to conform rather than to develop critical thinking skills. They fear being out of the loop even for the length of one class period. Students walking around school hallways with their heads bowed staring at their phones between classes have caused some school systems to rule out the use of cellphones during school hours. This is known as the Bell-to-Bell Rule, which has been adopted by schools in Arkansas, Colorado and Pennsylvania, to name a few. Too often, overuse of cellphones and social media have replaced the old-fashioned face-to-face interactions with peers, robbing young people of the opportunity to gain real life social proficiency. Cell phone dependency is not just a young people phenomenon, though. it exists across all age groups. We see it worldwide on the spectrum between preoccupation and obsession. Were we always a society of obsessions? Growing up in the ‘60s, life really was less complicated. We weren’t tethered to habit-forming personal computers. We weren’t barraged by trend-inducing- advertisements for an endless stream of enticements. There was a narrower selection of paths to take, products to purchase, life choices to make. We didn’t have influencers, AI or Siri to do our thinking for us. We learned how to think for ourselves, to make our own decisions. We weren’t so prone to preoccupations and obsessions. We weren’t so anxious! Are you thinking about your own harmless habits? Perhaps they have not yet become preoccupations or progressed into full-blown obsessions. But if you are at all concerned that you are having difficulty pulling yourself away from activities that consume you, it might be time to find balance in your life by adding other interests. This column is devoted to psychological topics that speak to the human condition, such as relationships, family, love, loss, and happiness. The ideas, thoughts, philosophies, and observations expressed here are personal and not meant as professional advice. Names and identifying information have been changed to protect the privacy of real people. Dr. Nancy Fishman moved to Santa Clara County in 2016 from Michigan, where she was a practicing psychologist. Currently, she is a strategy consultant to individuals, families, businesses, family law attorneys and their clients, working on coping, managing, reorganizing, pivoting and innovating. She is the founder of Forgotten Harvest, one of the nation’s largest food recovery operations. She is also the creator of Silicon Valley’s A La Carte food recovery and distribution initiative, and the organizer of Feeding Morgan Hill. Nancy lives on a family compound with her husband, sisters, brother-in-law, and a pack of dogs. NancyFishmanPhD.com ForgottenHarvest.org

By Stan Fischler / North Golan Heights, Israel The author in his family's current Safe Room in Israel. It used to be his granddaughter's bedroom. Stan's previous story, The Maiden and The Maven: A Modern Fairy Tale, appeared in the last issue It's about a ten-step walk from the kitchen to the Safe Room, but sometimes it feels like a mile. The sirens that blare around our little kibbutz in the North Golan Heights have become dissonant music to our ears–three year’s worth so far. Who knows how much longer? For the elderly in Israeli cities, the run to the nearest shelter can be a life and death sprint because the odds are not kind to arthritis, especially for elders. I did my basic training in the protection business a dozen years ago when the enemy du jour was then-dictator Assad, who ran Syria like a miserable two-bit Mussolini. A handful of parents were having a coffee klatch on a sunny afternoon when a pair of unpleasant sounds almost simultaneously disturbed the peace. The first–by five seconds–was not the “Habanera” from “Carmen” but more like the screech of the Brighton local as its wheels ground around the 90-degree curve at the Stillwell Avenue terminal. In a trice, all hands at the coffee table orbited in the direction of the nearest home, notably not a shelter, just a plain clapboard house. In a startling moment such as that, somebody has to be first and, alas, Fischler had to be last; so last in fact that the follow-up emission from above was one that became news to me–yeeeeee–and then an explosion directly at the kibbutz entrance and without a written invitation. Since there were no air raid sirens in those early war days six years ago, I never made it to the (alleged) sanctity of the hallway where all other kibbutzim were huddled. No matter, the explosion did no harm since no one was at the main entrance. Nor was I harmed in any way. But I did learn from the experience: the shell had come from Syria, supposedly by accident. That said, we learned to be extra careful of death via the sky. But neither my younger son Simon nor I could be careful in the next adventure-by-shell. This time we were on a late afternoon stroll around our community's perimeter. Two BOOMS left no doubt. "That's not us," said Simon. Dissatisfied by his reply, I shot back: "So now what do we do?" He didn't have to answer. The forest from which the blasts came turned quiet and we finished our walk unharmed. But as we soon learned, this was just the start of something big and three years later the war is more intense than ever. With that in mind, we learned that there were a few rudimentary things to remember: 1. THE SANCTUARY: Our home has a Safe Room that has extra protection and is a good "cave" within the house where we should be. 2. THE ALARMS: Israel has a warning alarm which everyone can get on his or her phone. If the enemy munition is directly heading our way, the kibbutz siren lets us know without hesitation to get the hell into the cave, presto pronto. 3. INSIDE THE ROOM: Mattresses and pillows adorn the room; one that holds five "duckers" with reasonable comfort. Room for napping, sardine-style. The all-clear usually comes in from 10 minutes to an hour -- and then a return to normal duty. Our modus operandi has changed little over the years. Our fears alternate like our electric outlets which change with the fortunes of war. Exhibit A: After a few weeks, I moved my personal annex (sleep space) to the cave. Ergo: The Safe Room overnight became my bedroom. Partially because I'm partially deaf and partially because the cave is hermetically sealed, I never can hear the siren. But once the family piles into the cave, that's the signal that something is up -- and unfortunately -- is coming down. Throughout this whole ugly mess, our morale has maintained what my U.S. Navy Seabee Uncle Joe called "revolutionary decorum." Ever since Uncle Joe blurted out that line -- while annoyingly pinching my cheeks -- it somehow has stuck in my head. The other thing that has remained in my cranium is a song from the poignant musical, "Oh! What A Lovely War." It was ironic when I heard it on stage in London (September 1963) and it fits now like two perfectly meshed gears as the (grrrrrr) warning signal broke our silence with another wah, wah warning alert. The song lyric was -- and is, 63 years later: “When this lousy war is over.…Oh, how happy I will be!" Stan was gifted with a silver hockey stick when inducted into the USA Hockey Hall of Fame by the Islanders in 2020 Stanley I. Fischler (born March 31, 1932) is an American historian of hockey and the New York City subway, as well as a broadcaster, author of over 100 books, and professor. As a broadcaster with MSG, Fischler has won seven Emmy Awards (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stan_Fischler)

By Andy Borowitz April 8, 2026 TEHRAN (The Borowitz Report)—In its first act of goodwill since the declaration of a ceasefire, on Wednesday Iran permitted a container ship loaded with copies of the Epstein files to pass through the Strait of Hormuz. “In recent weeks, the closure of the Strait has cut off the world’s supply of Epstein files,” an Iranian government statement read. “Now, those files will flow freely to the four corners of the globe.” Although Iran is charging vessels millions for safe passage through the Strait, “We are sending the Epstein files through free of charge,” the statement indicated. The Iranians said they had taken Donald J. Trump's threat to destroy their civilization “very seriously,” noting, "We see what he's already done to American civilization."

From Common Dreams, April 14, 2026 This photo illustration created on April 13, 2026 shows a picture of US President Donald Trump on a screen and an AI-generated picture he posted on his Truth Social platform depicting himself as Jesus Christ after criticizing Pope Leo XIV. Trump later posted an AI-generated image seemingly depicting himself as Jesus Christ. (Photo by Mandel NGAN / AFP via Getty Images) President Trump exhibits what forensic mental health experts have identified as the “Dark Triad” of personality traits: narcissism, Machiavellianism, and psychopathy. What this represents is a constitutional emergency. Editor’s note: The following letter was sent to the bipartisan leadership of Congress on Monday, April 13, 2026 in regard to recent rhetoric and actions taken by US President Donald J. Trump. Senator John Thune Senate Majority Leader, US Senate Senator Charles E. Schumer Senate Minority Leader, US Senate Representative Mike Johnson Speaker of the House, US House of Representatives Representative Hakeem Jeffries House Minority Leader, US House of Representatives Dear Senate Majority Leader Thune, Senate Minority Leader Schumer, Speaker Johnson, and House Minority Leader Jeffries: We write to you today with a sense of urgency that we do not use lightly. The behavior and rhetoric of President Donald Trump have crossed a threshold that demands the immediate and bipartisan attention of Congress. This is not a partisan assessment. It is a judgment grounded in observable fact, consistent professional assessment, and the constitutional responsibilities that your offices carry. President Trump exhibits what forensic mental health experts have, across dozens of independent assessments, identified as the “Dark Triad” of personality traits: narcissism, Machiavellianism, and psychopathy. Rather than constituting a clinical diagnosis, this trait-based assessment is grounded in behavioral observation and is particularly useful for assessing the level of danger an individual poses in a political leadership position. We do not offer this as a clinical verdict. We offer it as the considered judgment of a substantial body of professional opinion, based on well-researched evidence that is consistent, accumulating, and impossible to dismiss. What makes this more than an academic matter is what predictably happens when this personality structure collides with immovable obstacles. The clinical literature is clear: individuals with Dark Triad profiles, when confronted with situations they cannot control or escape, do not recalibrate. They escalate. The psychological imperative to relieve narcissistic collapse overrides strategic calculation, concern for consequences, and ordinary self-restraint. Rage surges to domination. Impulsivity overrides caution. The urgent need to extinguish psychological pain eclipses every other consideration. We are watching this dynamic unfold in real time. The President’s recent public communications have been, by any normal standard of political discourse, alarming. His posts demanding that Iran “open the fuckin’ strait, you crazy bastards” and his threat to bomb Iran “back to the stone ages,” adding that “a whole civilization will die tonight, never to be brought back again,” are not the rhetoric of calculated geopolitical pressure. They are the expressions of a man in profound psychological distress who is reaching for the most extreme retaliatory threats available to him. That these statements were addressed to an adversary in the context of an active military confrontation makes them not merely shocking but profoundly dangerous. President Trump has now ordered a US naval blockade of Iran — an action that has sent world oil prices soaring and placed the United States in direct opposition to the international community. His ongoing actions carry the potential to trigger a global economic catastrophe, draw in regional and great powers, and ignite a wider conflict with consequences that no one can bound. These orders are being issued without adequate deliberation, without congressional authorization, and in a context in which the President’s judgment is, by every visible measure, severely compromised. We urge three specific actions. First, Congress must immediately retake its constitutional authority over war. The bombing of Iran and the initiation of a naval blockade — acts of war under both US and international law — cannot be authorized by presidential fiat. Article I of the Constitution vests in Congress the sole power to declare war and to regulate commerce with foreign nations. The Framers intended Congress to deliberate upon and be accountable for precisely such consequential actions. Congress must assume its constitutional authority now, before further escalation renders the question moot. Second, congressional leadership — on a bipartisan basis — must convene urgent consultations with senior administration officials, including the Secretary of Defense, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the Secretary of State, and the Director of National Intelligence. The purpose is not routine oversight. It is to create a circuit breaker capable of preventing escalation toward catastrophe, including the potential use of nuclear weapons. Those officials have their own constitutional and statutory obligations. Congress should insist on those obligations and provide a forum in which they can be exercised. Third, Congress should formally initiate consultation with the Vice President and Cabinet regarding the President’s fitness for office under Section 4 of the Twenty-Fifth Amendment. We do not prejudge the outcome. We are not calling for the President’s immediate removal. We are calling for the process that the Constitution itself provides for this contingency: when a President’s capacity to discharge the duties of office is in question and poses a potential imminent danger to the nation. The Amendment exists because those who drafted it recognized that the question of presidential incapacity would occasionally arise, and that it required a constitutional answer rather than a political improvisation. We recognize the gravity of what we are asking. We ask it because the gravity of the situation demands it. A President who publicly threatens to destroy a foreign civilization, who launches a bombing campaign and then imposes a naval blockade without congressional authorization, and who shows every behavioral sign of a personality in acute crisis is not merely a political problem. He is a constitutional emergency. The mechanisms for addressing such an emergency exist. They were placed in the Constitution and its amendments for moments precisely like this one. The war with Iran will not wait. The escalation dynamics of this active military confrontation will not wait. The psychological conditions driving the President’s decisions will not improve under pressure — they will worsen. We urge you to act without delay. The Constitution gives you the tools. Your oath of office assigns you the responsibility. Respectfully, James Gilligan, M.D. Clinical Professor of Psychiatry, New York University School of MedicineAdjunct Professor of Law, New York University School of LawFormer Faculty of Psychiatry, Harvard Medical School Former President, International Association of Forensic Psychotherapy Prudence L. Gourguechon, M.D. Former President, American Psychoanalytic Association Former Vice President, World Mental Health Coalition Bandy X. Lee, M.D., M.Div. President, World Mental Health CoalitionCo-Founder, Preventing Violence Now Former Faculty of Social Medicine, Harvard Medical School Former Faculty of Law and Psychiatry, Yale School of Medicine James R. Merikangas, M.D. Clinical Professor of Psychiatry and Behavioral Science, George Washington University; Research Consultant, National Institute of Mental Health Co-Founder, American Neuropsychiatric Association Former President, American Academy of Clinical Psychiatrists Jeffrey D. Sachs, Ph.D. University Professor, Columbia University