By Laurence Lerman / New York City Though Ray Liotta launched his career in the late Seventies on a soap opera playing a character he described as “the nicest guy in the world,” the actor would soon become known for his intense and often criminal big screen portraits that stretched over the next 40 years. Liotta died in his sleep on Thursday, May 26 in a hotel room in the Dominican Republic where he was filming his latest movie, a thriller named Dangerous Waters. He was 67. There has been no announcement yet as to the cause of his death. Following his recurring three-year gig on the Brooklyn-based soap Another World, a few other TV gigs and a tiny part in the Pia Zadora vehicle The Lonely Lady (1983), Liotta snagged what was to be his breakout role in Jonathan Demme’s 1986 genre mash-up Something Wild. The New Jersey-born actor seethed with menace as Ray Sinclair, the dangerous ex-con husband of Melanie Griffith’s zany party girl Audrey. Liotta’s entrance at the two-thirds mark turns what had up until that point been a pleasantly romantic road movie into a violent crime-fueled thriller. Following a climactic brutal fight sequence between Liotta and co-star Jeff Daniels in a suburban bathroom, another character comments, “How do you figure a guy like Ray Sinclair?” That’s exactly what I was thinking when I first absorbed the ferocity of Liotta’s performance, which propelled the film into a whole new direction for its final third. Something Wild proved to be a warmup for Liotta’s role as a real-life gangster turned rat Henry Hill in Martin Scorsese’s 1990 working-class Mafia epic Goodfellas. One of the greatest gangster films ever made—and without a doubt one of the finest Hollywood films of the past 50 years—Goodfellas offered Liotta the opportunity to take on the richest and most complex character of his career. Following the young Hill’s initiation into organized crime and the subsequent highs and lows of his life over the next three decades, Goodfellas remains a wildly engaging and ceaselessly watchable film. Much of that is due to the performance of Liotta, who appears in nearly every scene as narrator and guide through his 30 years in the Mafia. Though Liotta cycled through dozens of over-the-top, crazy-angry roles (2002’s Narc is a particular standout), he also proved he was adept in other kinds of films. His comedy chops were fully formed for his roles in the romantic crime comedy Heartbreakers (2001) and the darkly comic Observe and Report (2009), just as he delivered capable dramatic portrayals in such pictures Dominick and Eugene (1988), Youth in Revolt (2009) and sports fantasia Field of Dreams (1989), where he played the spirit of the baseball legend Shoeless Joe Jackson. While he was best known for his film roles, Liotta also held a healthy batting average on TV. Most recently, he starred opposite Taron Egerton on this year’s Apple TV+ prison thriller series Black Bird. Prior to that, Liotta had a regular role in the third season of Prime Video’s action thriller Hanna (2019), and starred opposite Jennifer Lopez in the 2016-18 NBC cop drama Shades of Blue. He even won an Emmy Award in 2005 for his guest stint as an alcoholic ex-con on ER. Following a relatively low-key period a decade ago when Liotta appeared in a slew of direct-to-cable/DVD genre crime thrillers with names like Bad Karma (2012) and The Son of No One (2011), he appeared to be resurging in a juicier cross-section of films. Some of his latest, most commendable work includes: Noah Baumbach’s acclaimed Marriage Story (2019) and the high-profile Sopranos prequel The Many Saints of Newark (2021). Liotta also recently wrapped the Elizabeth Banks-helmed drug-runner thriller Cocaine Bear, which is due in early 2023, and was scheduled to star in the feminist-themed body horror offering The Substance, opposite Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley. Clearly, Liotta liked his work and showed no signs of slowing down. One of the actor’s more intriguing assignments was the part of Frank Sinatra in the 1998 HBO movie The Rat Pack, a role he hesitated to accept. “At first it was like, ‘Do I look enough like Sinatra?’” Liotta said in an interview at the time of the film’s release. “Finally, I had to say: ‘I’m from Jersey, I’ve got blue eyes, I’m close enough.’” Laurence Lerman is a film journalist, former editor of Video Business--Variety's DVD trade publication--and husband to The Insider's own Gwen Cooper. Over the course of his career he has conducted one-on-one interviews with just about every major director working today, including Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino, Clint Eastwood, Kathryn Bigelow, Ridley Scott, Walter Hill, Spike Lee, and Werner Herzog, among numerous others. Once James Cameron specifically requested an interview with Laurence by name, which his wife still likes to brag about. Most recently, he is the co-founder and editor-in-chief of the online review site DiscDish.com.

Fred Plotkin, a pleasure activist and passionate Italy and culinary expert, speaks each Friday with leading people in the arts FRED PLOTKIN is one of America’s foremost experts on opera and has distinguished himself in many fields as a writer, speaker, consultant and as a compelling teacher. He is an expert on everything Italian, the person other so-called Italy experts turn to for definitive information.  Fred discovered the concept of "The Renaissance Man" as a small child and has devoted himself to pursuing that ideal as the central role of his life. In a “Public Lives” profile in The New York Times on August 30, 2002, Plotkin was described as "one of those New York word-of-mouth legends, known by the cognoscenti for his renaissance mastery of two seemingly separate disciplines: music and the food of Italy." In the same publication, on May 11, 2006, it was written that "Fred is a New Yorker, but has the soul of an Italian."

By Bonnie Fishman / San Francisco Bay Area Get ready--It’s almost Memorial Day weekend! This is the weekend that signifies the unofficial beginning of summer across our country. Schools are winding down, folks are getting their backyards in order and their pools cleaned and filled with water. People who are fortunate enough to own a lake cottage or a cabin in the woods are heading to their “sanctuaries” to open up the vacation homes and to clean out the cobwebs and mice droppings. They’re stocking their fridges with a variety of holiday weekend fixings. And, of course, millions of cooks are dusting off their grills and refilling their propane tanks or gathering wood. There’s a solemn side to the holiday too. It’s a day to honor those who have died serving in the U.S. military. The first Memorial Day was observed in 1868, after the Civil War. (I learned this tidbit watching Jeopardy! See- game shows DO have merit.) We are reminded of this patriotic dimension of the holiday by the display of American flags festooning front porches, on cars and in parades. When my kids were in grade school, Memorial Day meant opening our small lake cabin in West Branch in northern Michigan. The cabin had been in our family since 1952, the year I was born. There was definite excitement in the air. No school for the kids and no work for my husband and me. Real freedom from the constraints of running a business. We would pack the car with kids and dogs and groceries. Meal planning took place before we left so I could procure the right ingredients, which might not be available in a small town supermarket. I didn’t want to make the meals fussy, as the weekend was more about playing in the woods, fishing off the dock, getting the pontoon boat in the water, and just chillin’. I was determined, though, that we wouldn’t be relegated to eating bad food either! I would prep my dressings, marinades, and sauces at home and jar them up to take north. It really helped having those items done ahead of time. It’s hard for me to remember when grilling became a part of my culinary repertoire. I certainly didn’t learn about it at Le Corden Bleu Cooking School when I attended it in London in 1975. God forbid they teach anything but classical French technique. I can’t picture our prim and proper instructors sweating over a grill! I began grilling at college on a small hibachi (yes, we had those back in the day!) on our equally small apartment balcony. I eventually graduated to a coal-fueled Weber, sticking with hot dogs, hamburgers and chicken. Nothing fancy. My deep dive into creative grilling recipes really grew out of the cooking classes I taught at my two shops, Bonnie’s Patisserie in Southfield, Mich. and Bonnie’s Kitchen in Bloomfield Hills, Mich., for almost 30 years. Grill class was an extremely popular subject. I would set up a grill on the front lawn of my building and the students would gather around while I went from preparation to preparation, as we ate the results along the way. I made meat, fish and chicken in a variety of ways. I also cooked vegetables, fruit desserts, and even pizza on the grill. A crucial lesson I learned from many years of experience is that no two grills are alike. They all seem to have hot spots and the amount of heat generated by my grill is different from other grills. The solution: know your grill! Some grilling tips you may find helpful this weekend: •If a recipe calls for something to be cooked on high and your high is scorching hot, turn the heat down. •If you have hot spots, rotate the food items on and off that spot. •Drain the food out of a marinade well before putting on the grates, otherwise you will have large flare-ups. •I personally like to char steaks on high, but then turn the heat down to cook to desired doneness. •Season your meat with coarse salt and pepper right before grilling. This makes a huge difference. • I don’t brush sauce onto chicken until each side has been cooked slightly. •Before I cook meats, I take them out to room temperature for an hour. Have all of your tools, platters, sauces and seasonings set by your grill before you even start. It sure beats running inside to fetch supplies. Because doing prep ahead makes the cooking task easier, I often choose Grilled Ribs with Classic Barbecue Sauce as my go-to Memorial Day meal. This year, I will prepare the dry rub and barbecue sauce ahead of time. I will even cook the ribs, carve them, and put them in a roasting pan with the sauce a day or two ahead. Wait! Is that a real backyard BBQ? YES! Even if you’re the one standing over the grill, juggling the side dishes, and making sure everyone has what they need, this is a meal that allows the cook to sit back and relax with the rest of the guests. Then, 45 minutes before dinner is to be served, pop those babies in the oven and voilà, your entree is on the buffet. I have chosen a classic American-style barbecue sauce. I read about this recipe, created by a reader who won a contest for best BBQ sauce when one of our local Detroit papers challenged its readership. This was 40 years ago and has been my go-to sauce ever since. Of course, every state claims theirs is the best! I have even done these ribs in a Hoisin Barbecue Sauce, which changes them completely, but is equally delicious. One last suggestion; Consider making a large batch of the dry rub, storing it in a jar, and continuing to use it all summer for ribs, as well as for steaks and chicken Have a wonderful holiday weekend, as we say thanks to all of those soldiers who have given their lives for our freedom. And please let us know here at The Insider what you’ve decided to put on your own grill this year! Grilled Baby Back Ribs with Classic Barbecue Sauce Yield: 1 rack serves 3-4 people 3 racks of pork baby back ribs Dry Rub: 2 Tbsp. + 2 tsp. salt 2 Tbsp. + 2 tsp. paprika 2 Tbsp. garlic powder 1 1/2 Tbsp. onion powder 1 Tbsp. ground black pepper 1 Tbsp. oregano 1 Tbsp. thyme 2 tsp. cayenne pepper Classic Barbecue Sauce: 1/2 c. minced onions 2 cloves of garlic, minced 1 1/3 c. catsup 1/2 c. fresh lemon juice 1/2 c. red wine vinegar 1/3 c. water 1/4 c. brown sugar, packed 1 1/2 tsp. paprika 1 1/4 tsp. salt 1 1/4 tsp. dry mustard 3/4 tsp. black pepper 1/4 tsp. cayenne pepper 1 Tbsp. Worcestershire sauce 1/2 tsp. Tabasco or other hot sauce 3 Tbsp. butter or margarine Make the Dry Rub: Combine all ingredients in a bowl. Can be multiplied and stored in a jar for a year. Make Barbecue Sauce: Combine all ingredients in a large saucepan. Bring to a boil; turn down to a light boil. Stir occasionally. Cook for 20 minutes. Cool completely before storing in the refrigerator. Can be multiplied and stored in a clean jar for a couple of months. Make the ribs: Lay the rack out on your work surface. Sprinkle the seasoning all over the meaty side of the ribs. Pat down with your hand. Preheat grill to moderately high. Place ribs on the grill with the seasoned side down. Sprinkle the rib side with coarse salt and coarse pepper. Char the ribs for about 15 minutes per side. Lay a large sheet of foil on your work surface. Put the ribs in the center. Cover them securely with the foil and an additional piece of foil. Set the packet onto a sheet pan with sides. Bake for 90 minutes at 350°. Remove from oven. Open the foil packet for the heat to escape. When cool enough to handle, stand ribs on the long side with the bones facing up. Using a large sharp knife, cut between each rib. Set the ribs in a roasting pan. Cover with sauce. Cover with foil. Either refrigerate for later use or reheat in the oven at 350° for 25 minutes if starting at room temperature or 45 minutes if removing from the refrigerator. 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 Sienna Beck / New York City It was the 9th of May when I had my first orthodontist appointment. I was really nervous about what she would do with my mouth. A lot of the kids in my class have braces, retainers, palate expanders, or other dental devices in their mouths. Since I had no idea what I was going to need, I did have the right to be worried. Before the appointment, at school that same day, I questioned a boy in my class how his first appointment had gone. He has braces. He told me that the first couple times they just look at and feel your face. Then, by the fourth week, they start prodding. This got me nervous, but I was grateful to him for preparing me. After school, while my sisters stayed with my babysitter, I walked with my mom from school and met my orthodontist at Suite 3. When I got inside, I was surprised that the room was so nice. The office had a nice aroma, too. After three minutes of waiting and another two for my mom to fill out some forms, I was led into a room. I sat down on one of those dentist chairs and chatted with my mom until my orthodontist proceeded inside. We talked for a while about my teeth. She was part comedian, for she made me laugh at any painful comments. She then told me, “I know it’s unfair that I get to see your gorgeous face and you don’t get to see mine”–she was wearing a mask–“so I’ll show you what mine would look like.” She held up a picture about the size of the bottom of her face with a moustache and a pair of lips underneath. I giggled. “Unfortunately, that hasn’t happened yet, so I look like this.” She pulled out another card with just a pair of lips. I giggled again. I told her why I had come to the orthodontist: One of my grown-up teeth would come in at an angle, and my dentist wanted an orthodontist to look at that. She then pulled on some gloves and felt my teeth. As she poked along, she remarked, “Well, you have two wiggly teeth” (which I had not known about). She seemed especially focused on the tooth below the one coming in at an angle. When she was finished, I asked with concern, “Will I need braces, or a retainer? What will I need?” She smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry to say this, but you’ll need a palate expander.” [A palate expander is a small appliance that goes on the roof of your mouth and expands it. It comes with a little key and each night you tweak the key a little bit so each night your mouth becomes a little wider.] I was so freaked out by this response, but when she said I had a month and a half before getting it in, I swallowed my fear. That’s when the appointment ended, and I selected a squishy toy and a ‘Pop It’ from the prize chest. That is how my first orthodontist appointment happened, and overall, I must admit that it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Keep your mouth in good condition! Sienna Beck is a 9-year-old author who loves writing short stories. She goes to a camp called Writopia, and once entered a play contest and was selected to have her play professionally performed by trained actors. Sienna has two sisters, Willa and Olive, and they all go to P.S. 87 in New York City. Sienna likes animals, including pets and mostly dogs. She also wants to be THE PRESIDENT when she grows up.

One film journalist’s stream-of-consciousness cinematic journey through the pandemic, Part 84 By Laurence Lerman / New York City As any worthy cinephile with an eye on film history will tell you, 1972 was one helluva fine year in American cinema. They also might say that it runs neck and neck with 1939 or 1959 or 1982 or any one of a number of others. One of movie lovers’ favorite parlor games is endlessly debating what the greatest year in film history was. I usually go with 1972 right out of the gate and I’m proud to say it’s rarely anybody else’s first choice. I recently wrote an Insider column celebrating the 50th anniversary of The Godfather, which had its premiere on a snowy March 14, 1972 at New York City’s Loew’s State Theatre in Times Square. I took a few minutes while doing my Godfather research to remind myself why 1972 is so often my first choice. There’s just so much quality cinema to choose from: The Candidate, Fat City, The King of Marvin Gardens, Jeremiah Johnson, 1776, The Hot Rock, The Getaway and The Poseidon Adventure are all from ’72. Then there are the comedies What’s Up, Doc?, Everything You’ve Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (But Were Afraid To Ask) and The Heartbreak Kid. Hitchcock’s Frenzy. The award-winning documentary Marjoe, on evangelist Marjoe Gortner. All 1972. That doesn’t even include the movies that were nominated for that year’s Academy Award for Best Picture, an Oscar that ultimately went to The Godfather: Cabaret, Deliverance, Sounder and The Emigrants. And then there are the foreign-language films—a bunch of undeniable greats like Aguirre, The Wrath of God, The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant, Last Tango in Paris, The Seduction of Mimi, Solaris and Fellini’s Roma, to name a healthy cross section It was while I was compiling this list that I came across the breakdown of movies released in May, 1972—50 years ago this month—and was very surprised to discover that not a single film on my list of great ones came out that month. Not a one. The most popular film released in May, 1972 would have to be Play It Again, Sam, based on Woody Allen’s popular 1969 play of the same name. The story finds Woody portraying a neurotic film critic obsessed with old movies who receives advice on life and love from the spirit of his idol, a Casablanca-era Humphrey Bogart. One of the only times that Woody wrote and starred in a film that somebody else directed (in this case, the serviceable Herbert Ross), Play It Again, Sam clicked with critics and audiences while also presenting its star as a viable leading man. It might not rise to the heights of 1972’s greats, but it remains an entertaining and heartfelt romantic comedy. Now I know there are 12 months in a year and that it’s far from a mathematical certainty that any of the aforementioned goodies would have been released in May. But what are the odds that not even one would come out that month? The past 20 years have seen May evolve into one of the film’s industry’s most vital release months—it’s considered “the early summer” in Hollywood-speak and that’s the time the studios begin to roll out their big guns. Granted, 1972 came a few years before Jaws (1975) and Star Wars (1977) created the concept of the “summer blockbuster” season, and I’m not saying that the aforementioned May, ’72 films are blockbuster material, not by any stretch. But, still, you’d think that a couple of them would have sprung up that spring. What I did discover when tapping the archives is one of the strangest, most varied and offbeat collections of movies I’ve ever seen released to theaters in a single month. There aren’t more than a couple of critically lauded and commercially popular films among them. And an overview of the balance of the titles seems to hearken back to a time hen a number of films of very specific genres and trends were released on a national scale, even though they clearly had more of a regional or niche appeal. That’s as good an explanation as any for the numerous drive-in-friendly and grindhouse-styled flicks that can be found in May, 1972’s stack of nearly three dozen theatrical titles. For starters, there are no less than a half-dozen horror movies, beginning with a pair of sexy British supernatural flicks with an archaeological angle: Tower of Evil, about the uncovering of a mystical Phoenician treasure and the subsequent rash of murders it triggers; and the sexy Hammer Studios’ production Blood from the Mummy’s Tomb, starring lovely Valerie Leon as the spirit of an unearthed Egyptian queen who takes her cues from a vengeful severed hand. (Don’t ask.) The four other chillers include Susan George as a babysitter up against a mental institution escapee in the dreadful low-budget Fright, and not one but two “bad twins” movies: The Other, based upon Thomas Tyron’s bestselling 1971 psychological horror novel and featuring grand dame Uta Hagen and twins Chris and Martin Udvarnoky; and Twins of Evils starring sibs Madeline and Mary Collinson as orphaned sisters in 19th century Europe who move in with their devil-worshipping uncle (Peter Cushing). Possession and the black arts also play a central role in The Possession of Joel Delany, a not-bad pre-Exorcist supernatural thriller about a Manhattan divorcee (Shirley MacClaine) whose brother (Perry King) has been possessed by the spirit of a serial killer with a penchant for beheading young women in Spanish Harlem. May, ’72 also offers a pair of titles that key into the growing women’s liberation movement of the era. There’s the feminist comedy-drama Stand Up and Be Counted, starring Jacqueline Bissett, Stella Stevens, Madelyn Rue, Loretta Swit and Dr. Joyce Brothers (!), a quintet of actresses who certainly deliver on the femininity front. The fight for equal rights is equally front and center in the revisionist Western Hannie Caulder, wherein shapely Raquel Welch sets out for revenge against the outlaws who raped her just before killing her husband. Then there are five more that resist any of my attempts to neatly group them together as they hop, skip and jump across the flavorful genre gameboard of the early 70s. It’s airline pilot Charlton Heston to the rescue when his plane is seized and terrorized by crazed Vietnam vet James Brolin in Skyjacked, a moderate box-office hit. There’s The Honkers, a forgettable rodeo flick starring James Coburn and Anne Archer in her screen debut. Young Billy Dee Williams steps out as a college student turned revolutionary in the fiery blaxploitation race drama The Final Comedown. Overpopulation and birth prevention are the issues that drive the futuristic sci-fi thriller Z.P.G., where couple Oliver Reed and Geraldine Fitzgerald risk having a real baby rather than legally adopting a cyborg child. (Z.P.G. stands for “Zero Population Growth,” in case you were wondering.) Heading into even more outlandish turf, is Pink Angels, a low-budget motorcycle spoof about a gang of gay and transvestite bikers who head to L.A. to attend a drag ball. Wow. Sooo, I’m not going to suggest that you rush to stream any of the movies of May, 1972, except for the very enjoyable Play It Again, Sam (if you haven’t already seen it). It definitely stands out as a worthwhile film...in a strange month...in a great year! Laurence Lerman is a film journalist, former editor of Video Business--Variety's DVD trade publication--and husband to The Insider's own Gwen Cooper. Over the course of his career he has conducted one-on-one interviews with just about every major director working today, including Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino, Clint Eastwood, Kathryn Bigelow, Ridley Scott, Walter Hill, Spike Lee, and Werner Herzog, among numerous others. Once James Cameron specifically requested an interview with Laurence by name, which his wife still likes to brag about. Most recently, he is the co-founder and editor-in-chief of the online review site DiscDish.com.

By Naomi Serviss / New York City Simple pleasures have been buoying my hunkered-down spirits these past two years: A hearty chunk of warm sourdough sesame-seed bread, Small Batch Meyer Lemon Marmalade spread on top. Whole-milk White Moustache yogurt aswirl with sour cherries. Creamy goodness. Sugarless fruit scones sweetened by cran and blueberries. Sesame noodles from our favorite Chinese restaurant. Magnum Ice Cream, any flavor. It’s not just about sating raw physical hunger. It’s also about nurturing emotional well-being with critical self-care. Easier said. It’s okay to be happy even though the world is a mess. I listen to show tunes on my early morning Central Park walk with our new-ish rescue pup Janis. We soak in the splendor of our surroundings. senses attuned to the sunrise and aroma of newly mown grass. Playing “Bébé Fetch” with our two-year-old Humane Society pup tops all. Bébé is a tattered comfort squeaky toy bearing a slight resemblance to a teensy white lamb. Once pristine, Bébé is now A paler shade of white, lovingly gnawed to its nubs. Janis zooms around the apartment, daring us to wrest it from her mouth. It’s a joyous never-ending frolic up and down our hallway. We have three dog beds (I know, I know) so she can nestle into a soft spot anywhere in our three-room apartment. Her plushest bed sits at the foot of our bed. She’s fond of it, but prefers nestling between us, her warmth, radiant. Janis soothes me when the near-constant construction cacophony crushes quiet and threatens my concentration. I rise at 5 a.m. to savor two precious quiet hours, only birdsong in the background. Her feather-duster tail quivers when Lew awakens late in the morning. Every day after entrance is granted, Janis bounds up our quilted turquoise and white, polka-dotted makeshift pathway to Lew’s face, which she christens enthusiastically with nonstop tongue-licking. That makes me crave (I don’t know why) killer sugarless fruit scones from a homey Eastside bagel café, creatively named: Bagel Shop. It’s a spacious bakery where magic happens, crosstown. The air is bagel-y with everything seasoning, toasted sesame seeds, cinnamon and coffee. Their best-in-show is pumpernickel. I’m a gluten for pumpernickel. We workout pals pre-Covid, if memory serves), hung out to nosh, caffeinate and applaud each other’s stamina. I miss those days. One universe-cracking-open fact learned over these past Covid years: Carbs are not the enemy. Good carbs, that is. Organic, hand-crafted artisanal bread is healthier, better for the environment and tastes worlds apart from supermarket loaves. I recently discovered the motherload of tastebud-heaven sourdough bread. Sourdough Gambit (cute, right?) is a fledging, limited-supply pandemic-inspired bakery that delivers to our Upper West Side abode. Adam Simon founder, baker and former finance pro ditched Goldman Sachs after two decades to find his bliss in a Queens commercial kitchen. Using the best organic flour on the market, this Wizard of Wheat crafts off-the-beaten- taste-bud track with imaginative manna. The sesame is seeded within; a country loaf has just three ingredients. Olive lovers will celebrate the Moroccan loaf, plump with North African-inspired flavor. I’m partial to the walnut cranberry, the apple-pie cookies and the cinnamon buns. My nonfood-related blissful moments: Practicing mindful meditation followed by yoga stretches powers most days. I miss Sunday’s in-person community meditation services led by Buddhist guide Allan Lokos. His uplifting dharma teachings, delivered in a resonant baritone voice, hint at his former Broadway career. Occasionally tuning into the weekly Zoom sessions doesn’t ring my bell. Still, our small white pup warms my lap as I write, her piercing Keane-eyes shattering a gloomy mood. My heart fills as I stroke her soft form, her head propped against my writing arm. Life is good. Naomi Serviss is a New York-based award-winning journalist whose work has been published in The New York Times, Newsday, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Highroads (AAA magazine), in-flight publications, spa and travel magazines and websites, including BroadwayWorld.com

By John Rolfe / Red Hook, N.Y. Whenever I pass Father Carroll Little League Field, I break out in whimsy. Located near my home in rural Dutchess County, N.Y., the diamond with its dugouts, announcer’s booth behind home plate, and outfield fences adorned with ads for local businesses, brings to mind a quaint minor league ballpark, a field of dreams, a simpler time. Seeing children playing there on sunny afternoons also summons fond memories. My four kids grew up cavorting in baseball as well as youth soccer, flag football, roller hockey and figure skating at local fields and rec parks. Besides providing wholesome exercise and (hopefully) teaching the value of sportsmanship, dedication, and perseverance, sports can forge a timeless bond between parents and their offspring. My dad was my first Little League coach and he taught me how to throw, catch and hit, just as I did with my sons. But my childhood of daily pickup games of baseball and football with kids in my neighborhood seems quaint now. Sports have become highly organized and a humongous business. With college athletic scholarships at stake, talented kids who are barely out of grade school are scouted with an eye toward a possible pro career where contracts are astronomical. You very rarely see anyone using a local diamond or field or even a lawn just for some informal fun. The simple joys of playing are often lost in the deathly seriousness of competition. During my sons’ Little League days, I saw a few nasty arguments between adults, some of whom were assailing the umpire about calls they didn’t like. Fortunately, that was as bad as things got. Now, I often read or hear about much worse, such as physical assaults and outright brawls. I’ve witnessed a lot of changes, especially during my 33-year career as a writer and editor for SPORT Magazine, Sports Illustrated for Kids, and SI.com. Virtually everything has been drenched in money and commercialism: stadiums with coldly corporate names that frequently change; every pitch, pass and wheeze brought to you by a sponsor; even ads on players’ uniforms. Major international events like the Olympics feel like one big advertisement, and dollars trump conscience whenever sports and politics collide. The latest instance: the men’s tennis tour stripping the prestigious Wimbledon tournament of its ranking points for banning Russian and Belarusian players in the wake of the Ukraine invasion. It’s no surprise that betting on sports is now legal in 35 states. It’s possible to bet on everything from who will win or how many points a player will score to how many pigeons will land on the field during the game. Americans have wagered more than $125 billion since the Supreme Court made it legal in 2018. Even fantasy sports, once a popular hobby among friends who created informal leagues, has become a lucrative industry. While politicians hail the tax revenue that betting generates, gambling changes the nature of our focus and passions, and the social cost is considerable, especially for those who have a gambling addiction problem. Ads for Draft Kings, FanDuel, Caesar’s and other wagering services are everywhere. It also stands to reason that fan misbehavior (particularly verbal abuse of athletes), long a problem at stadiums and arenas, will be made worse by a toxic combination of drinking and the aggravation of losing wagers, on top of the considerable costs of attending events. As family entertainment, sports sure aren’t the go-to bargain they used to be. That was driven home in late April when my son Colin and I went to an NHL game at UBS Arena, the gleaming new home of the New York Islanders. We had a nice time even though our beloved Isles lost, but I gagged at coughing up more than $250 for two tickets, parking, grub, gas (not from the grub) and tolls. I longed for my salad days in the ‘70s and ‘80s when the outing would have relieved us of less than $50. Despite the excitement and tribal community of being at a game, there’s much to recommend watching at home: a better view, free food, and no wait to use the commode. Even better: no obnoxious drunks or aggrieved bettors hurling invective and beer or fighting in the aisles. Sports were a family glue when I was growing up. I watched all kinds of events with my mom, dad, and older sister, and we spent many afternoons at racetracks when thoroughbred horse racing was a major spectator sport, though it was later nearly killed off by Off-Track Betting. That Belmont Park sits next to UBS Arena made me feel sentimental, kind of like when I pass Father Carroll Field. Fortunately, I never lost (or even made) a bet at Father Carroll. Belmont is another story. Nags ran off with a lot of my allowance when I was a kid, but those were very different days. But even with all the negative change, sports remain a bonding experience. When not watching games together, Colin and I text our joys and indignations while our Islanders and woeful New York Football Giants are in action. My wife and daughter share a love of world-class figure skating and attend live events such as Stars on Ice. So will the endless wave of big money ultimately kill our love of sports? Somehow, I wouldn’t bet on it. John Rolfe is a former senior editor for Sports Illustrated for Kids, a longtime columnist for the Poughkeepsie Journal/USA Today Network, and author of The Goose in the Bathroom: Stirring Tales of Family Life. His school bus drivin’ blog “Hellions, Mayhem and Brake Failure” is parked on his website Celestialchuckle.com (https://celestialchuckle.com) with the meter running.

By Jessie Seigel / Washington, D.C. Will former Trump Attorney General William Barr spill his guts to the House committee investigating the January 6, 2021 insurrection? And will the public get to watch? It doesn’t appear that the committee has yet decided whether to invite Barr to testify at its public hearings beginning in June. But according to CNN sources, Barr has tentatively agreed to give sworn testimony to the committee “behind closed doors.” The committee’s chairman, Mississippi Democratic Rep. Bennie Thompson, said on Face the Nation in January that the committee had already had some conversations with Barr. The former AG confirmed he had an informal conversation focused on whether he possessed information related to the Capitol attack, or the actions of former Justice Department official Jeffrey Clark. All these negotiations would sound promising if we hadn’t seen this game played before by any number of close Trump minions who ultimately refused to testify at all, let alone under oath. Some of them refused to obey subpoenas, making the bogus claim of “executive privilege,” ostensibly based on their having worked for Trump. Given that Barr has recently published his own tell-all book, One Damn Thing After Another: Memoirs of an Attorney General, it is doubtful that he could have any privilege basis for refusing to testify. On the other hand, Trump’s former Chief of Staff Mark Meadows, in exactly that situation, was referred for contempt of Congress to the Department of Justice (DOJ) in December 2021, and the DOJ has yet to take any action on that. Even if Barr does testify, his predilection toward sophistry is as strong as Trump’s propensity to lie. One must suspect that the only thing the committee will get from Barr’s testimony would be a display of the fascistic philosophy that drives him and, perhaps, exposure of his hypocrisy —if he testifies publicly. In March, while promoting his book, Barr acknowledged to NBC News concerning the January 6 attack, “I do think [Trump] was responsible in the broad sense of that word in that it appears that part of the plan was to send this group up to the Hill.” Barr added, “I think that the whole idea was to intimidate Congress, and I think that was wrong.” But the same month, Barr said to NPR “I didn’t view it as an insurrection. I mean, I think it was a riot that got out of control.” And in response to a question about the calls to hang former Vice President Mike Pence, Barr said he “thought that that was essentially a propaganda-type thing.” In what universe—except that of Barr, the sophist—is attempting to “intimidate Congress” and threatening to hang the Vice President if he and that institution do not overthrow the duly elected president of the United States—anything but an insurrection? In an appearance in April on the right-wing Newsmax show, “Spicer & Co.,” Barr said he does not think Trump should be the Republican presidential nominee in 2024, adding “And I think Republicans have a big opportunity—it would be a big mistake to put him forward.” Was this based on Trump’s instability, malfeasance, authoritarian ambitions or the horror of the policies that Trump would institute? None of the above. It was based only on Barr’s view that Trump would not be electable. Barr told NPR that Trump “would be one of the weaker candidates. We have a lot of young candidates who will fight for principle but don't have the sort of obnoxious personal characteristics that alienate a lot of voters." If there’s any doubt as to which “principle” Barr wants the next nominee to fight for, he made that clear in a statement to The New York Times: “The Republicans have an impressive array of younger candidates fully capable of driving forward with MAGA’s positive agenda and cultivating greater national unity.” In other words, Barr is all in for Trumpism—just not for Trump. He’s looking for a more effective figure to carry MAGA’s autocratic mantle. Nevertheless, if Trump gets the 2024 nomination, Barr has said he will vote for him. This despite Barr’s book describing the post-2020 election-Trump as “manic and unreasonable”; “off the rails” and as having “lost his grip.” A recent Atlantic headline suggested that, in saying he would still vote for Trump, Barr has “embraced the darkness.” But Barr embraced the darkness long before that. After all, as NBC noted, “Barr only got the job [as Trump’s attorney general] in significant measure by writing an unsolicited memo construing presidential power so broadly that… it would have been impossible for Trump to have done anything at all that would ever have justified Robert Mueller’s investigation [of the 2016 election].” As attorney general, Barr acted more as Trump’s personal defense attorney than as the attorney general for the nation. But this was not merely so-called toadying up to Donald Trump. Rather, it was the extension what The New York Times has called Barr’s “maximalist view of presidential power.” In other words—Barr favors presidential dictatorship. According to a December 2019 op-ed article by former President Obama’s Attorney General Eric Holder, Barr, at a Federalist Society event a month earlier, had dismissed “the authority of the legislative and judicial branches—and the checks and balances at the heart of America’s constitutional order.” Holder also wrote that Barr’s view of the attorney general’s role was “to serve not at a careful remove from politics, as his office demands, but as an instrument of politics — under the direct ‘control’ of President Trump.” Holder’s take on Barr has been borne out by the latter’s numerous actions on Trump’s behalf. To name only a few: Barr personally ordered the violent dispersal of lawful protestors from Lafayette Park so Trump could have his photo-op in front a church there. He opened investigations of those investigating the Trump campaign’s 2016 coordination with Russia. And he dropped a charge against former Security Advisor Michael Flynn for lying to the FBI despite Flynn having admitted to the crime. According to Barr, Trump’s 2019 attempt to extort Ukraine’s President Zelensky—conditioning that ally’s sorely needed American military aid on a Ukrainian investigation of the Bidens—was not extortion but only “a quid pro quo… inherent in almost all diplomacy.” Barr dismissed the impropriety of such an investigation into the president’s opponent, saying that even if it provided Trump “political benefits,” it “would also arguably advance America’s anticorruption agenda.” This projection of Trump’s corruption amounts to insult over injury. And then, there was Barr’s distorted summary of Special Counsel Robert Mueller’s report on Russia’s interference in the 2016 presidential election. Barr’s summary famously concluded that the Trump campaign did not conspire with Russia and that no determination had been made on obstruction of justice. Mueller said that Barr’s summary did not reflect the substance of the report’s findings. Barr’s summary raised serious concerns over whether he had deliberately presented the report as exonerating President Trump when findings in the redacted version of the report may have tended to incriminate him. Barr’s many actions taken on Trump’s behalf were not departures from a formerly integrity-filled career. Rather, they were in keeping with Barr’s own autocratic ideas of government and were quite predictable, based on Barr’s prior public career. In 1989, as the head of DOJ’s Office of Legal Counsel in President George H.W. Bush’s administration, Barr wrote a legal opinion justifying rendition; that is, permitting the FBI to kidnap fugitives wanted by the U.S. government from a foreign country without the consent of that country’s government. When Barr received a congressional request for the full 1989 opinion, he refused to provide it, but instead provided a summary of principal conclusions and reasoning. And when, a year and a half later, Congress finally succeeded in subpoenaing and obtaining the full opinion, it discovered that Barr’s summary had omitted important parts of the opinion which ran counter to its conclusions. According to a 1992 Village Voice article, in 1991, after William Barr had become Attorney General under former President George H.W. Bush, Barr hampered DOJ’s investigation of the Bank of Credit and Commerce International (BCCI) for fraud and illegal ownership and control of a number of American banks. He later covered for his actions by claiming in testimony before Congress that the BCCI investigation had “coordination” problems. Better to pretend incompetence than admit malfeasance. Barr’s natural inclination toward secrecy and creation of a government controlled by one person with absolute power, along with his contempt for the rule of law, made him the perfect choice for Trump’s attorney general. It wasn’t a matter of Barr having to toady. The anomaly is that Barr refused to go along with Trump’s voter fraud lie. Given Barr’s philosophy and prior actions, it is hard to conceive that Trump’s contrived voter fraud allegations were too absurd even for him. More likely, Barr weighed the odds of getting away with the coup and did not like them. As for what Barr might divulge at the January 6 committee hearings? Miracles happen, but I wouldn’t count on this legal leopard changing his spots. I predict that, if Barr testifies publicly, the nation will get a front row seat to his evasion, prevarication and obstruction. Political columnist Jessie Seigel had a long career as a government attorney in which she honed her analytic skills. She has also twice received an Artist’s Fellowship from the Washington, D.C. Commission on the Arts and Humanities for her fiction, and has been a finalist for a number of literary awards. In addition, Seigel is an associate editor at the Potomac Review, a reviewer for The Washington Independent Review of Books, and a dabbler in political cartoons at Daily Kos. Of this balance in her work between the analytic and the imaginative, Seigel jokes, “I guess my right and left brains are well-balanced.” More on and from Seigel can be found at The Adventurous Writer, https://www.jessieseigel.com.

By Marieke Slovin Lewis / Prescott, Ariz. I remember the final push at the end of the semester when I was an undergraduate student. It was an all-encompassing race to get all of my papers and assignments finished, study for finals, take the finals, pack up my dorm room, and leave. I also remember that once everything was finished and I arrived home, my immune system would almost always crash and burn. I don’t recall spending much time contemplating the end-of-semester cold or flu I came down with, but I have had similar experiences since. At times of great stress—leaving a job, moving houses, or both—my back has gone out, literally immobilizing me so that I have had to immediately stop overexerting myself and ask for help. I have also experienced my body’s response to the expectation in the United States that every person must work to the point of burnout in order to “succeed.” It’s as if there is a competition for who can be the most innovative, make the most money, get the most “likes” on social media and so on. The trend has not been to turn off our computers and just be. Far from it. The trajectory has moved us farther and farther on the path of burnout and exhaustion. As I’ve written about before in The Insider, I spent the past five years living in Europe. During this time, I met many Europeans—people from the Netherlands and Belgium and an expat from Canada—who were taking time off of work for burnout. This was a diagnosis they received from a therapist, and their time off was reimbursed as sick leave. It seems that burnout has become an accepted part of the human life cycle, the price we pay for progress. I know I am not alone in this experience, and I also have the sense that this burnout is being experienced around the globe, collectively. I have been wondering if the earth itself is experiencing a burnout. Could the pandemic be the earth’s response? Certainly, it has forced us all to slow down, hibernate in our various regions during multiple lockdowns, and contemplate the way we have been doing things. It has also given Earth a bit of a pause to breath; to take a cleansing inhale and exhale with fewer airplanes filling the sky, cars on the road, and nonstop movement and noise from people scurrying all over the globe. Now that we are maybe, hopefully, approaching the end of the pandemic, there seems to be an exhaustion, the kind of heaviness you feel when you have a moment to relax and realize just how much you have been over-efforting. The pandemic is not over, but pandemic fatigue is very real. There is no therapist to diagnose this collective exhaustion and guide us through a group debrief and healing process. There is no paid sick leave. It feels like we are beginning to return to business as usual, except that it isn’t working. Our heart just isn’t in it. In addition, the world seems so very polarized that I am not even sure how to approach any kind of global healing. There is a collective trauma from one crisis after another. How and where do we even begin to try to point to the origin? It’s been happening for so long, perhaps since we began crawling out of the primordial ooze. I can see that in the last decade, the Trump presidency opened a Pandora’s box, dividing the United States and shaking things up around the world. There has been a shift from democracy toward autocracy; from open minds to closed hearts; from welcoming and embracing those in need to othering and shaming. Reason and ethics seems to have been tossed out the window. We are exhausted, and tempers are running hot. The pandemic seems to have brought everything to a boiling point, and now the pot is boiling over. I am reminded of the phrase, No pain, no gain. What if we just decided that we didn’t need quite so much gain in exchange for a lot less pain? We are not taught to listen to our bodies or the signs that we may be on an unhealthy path. When I entered the workforce in my early twenties, I thought I had to do any and everything in order to demonstrate that I was invaluable. My goal was to transcend from seasonal status—I was a park ranger—to permanent, year-round, full-time work. The problem with this mindset is that once you show your boss you will literally do anything for the job, there is no going back. You have become a “yes” person, and if you suddenly begin to advocate for yourself, you are met with pushback and labeled a problem employee. Independent thinking and advocating for one’s well-being can be risky. What if we as a species began to demand that health and well-being became a part of the human life cycle instead of midlife crises and burnout? I believe we can exist in the world in a way that honors one another and the Earth. Marieke Slovin Lewis is a writer, musician, singer-songwriter, yoga teacher, and editor. She holds a Ph.D. in Sustainability Education and writes music from people's life stories, using a method called Story-to-Song that she developed with a fellow doctoral student. She was recently recognized as a finalist for the 2021 Amateo Award for arts participation projects in Europe for her project, "On the Move: Poems and Songs of Migration," for which she wrote songs with refugees and asylum seekers in Brussels, Belgium about their migration experiences. Marieke is a wandering soul and has lived all over the world. She is currently living with her husband, three cats, and a big white husky in Prescott, Arizona.

By Alan Resnick / Detroit I have no idea if there are plans in the works for a fourth saga in the Dumb and Dumber movie franchise, films about the zany antics of a couple of dimwitted pals. Just in case casting is about to begin, however, here’s an idea for a couple of newcomers to play the hapless duo–golfers Phil Mickelson and Greg Norman. Phil Mickelson would be on most people’s list as one of the top 10 golfers of all time. He has 57 professional wins, including victories at each of what are recognized as the sport’s four major championships–the Masters, the U.S. Open, the British Open, and the PGA. Significantly, Mickelson won last year’s PGA at age 50, making him the oldest major champion ever. Mickelson announced last week that he will not be defending his PGA title at this year’s event, which begins on Thursday, May 19. This makes Mickelson only the fifth player in the last 60 years not to defend his championship in one of the four majors. Moreover, he is only the third PGA champion not to defend his title in the last 75 years. Ben Hogan couldn't play in 1949 while recovering after his car got struck by a bus and Tiger Woods missed in 2008 while recovering from reconstructive knee surgery. So, Mickelson must have slipped in the shower and broken his arm? Or maybe he wrenched his back bending down to pet the family pooch? Nope. Mickelson basically shot himself in the foot on February 17. That was the day when Allan Shipnuck, a highly-respected former Sports Illustrated journalist who is writing an unauthorized biography of Mickelson, posted a story about a telephone interview conducted with Mickelson last year. During the interview, Mickelson expressed his frustrations with the current PGA tour and revealed his thoughts about a new golf tour run by LIV Golf Investments. Mickelson said that he hoped the new tour would be used as leverage against the PGA tour: “They’ve been able to get by with manipulative, coercive, strong-arm tactics but we, the players, had no recourse. As nice a guy as (PGA Tour Commissioner Jay Monahan) comes across as, unless you have leverage, he won’t do what’s right.” There’s just one itsy bitsy problem with the LIV Golf tour – it’s financially backed by the Public Investment Fund (PIF) of Saudi Arabia, which is essentially the government's financial arm. LIV Golf is attempting to poach the PGA tour’s biggest stars for its new tour by offering inducements such as a shortened season, guaranteed purses of $25 million per tournament, smaller playing fields, and a guaranteed payment of $120,000 for finishing last. On the PGA tour, the starting field of golfers is trimmed to the lowest 65 scorers after the first two rounds and those who miss the cut do not get paid. And who is the head of PIF? None other than Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, the son of Saudi Arabia’s king. You may remember him as the person who, according to an intelligence report issued last year by the Biden Administration, approved the assassination of Jamal Khashoggi in 2018. Khashoggi was the Washington Post reporter never seen again after he was observed walking into the Saudi consulate in Istanbul on October 2, 2018. Mickelson was less than delicate about the prospect of joining a fledgling golf league run by the Saudis: “They’re scary motherfuckers to get involved with. We know they killed Khashoggi and have a horrible record on human rights. They execute people over there for being gay. Knowing all of this, why would I even consider it? Because this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to shape how the PGA Tour operates.” So, Phil chose to cut the Saudis some slack for Kashoggi’s murder and their deplorable human rights record for some leverage over his current league and for bigger money. No surprise—Mickelson’s comments were not well-received by the public or by many of his fellow golfers. As the blowback from his comments intensified, Mickelson decided it was time for shift into damage control mode. On February 22, Mickelson issued a statement claiming that the thought his comments to Shipnuck were off the record. And then he apologized: “I used words I sincerely regret that do not reflect my true feelings or intentions,” Mickelson said in his statement. “It was reckless, I offended people and I am deeply sorry for my choice of words. I’m beyond disappointed and will make every effort to self-reflect and learn from this.” So far, so good, but why shoot yourself in only one foot when you have another one? “Golf desperately needs change, and real change is always preceded by disruption,” the statement continued. “I have always known that criticism would come with exploring anything new. I still chose to put myself at the forefront of this to inspire change, taking the hits publicly to do the work behind the scenes.” Mickelson’s corporate sponsors were not impressed with his heroism. The same day that Mickelson made his self-serving “my bad,” KPMG, a professional services firm, which had been a sponsor of Mickelson since 2008, ended its endorsement agreement. Hours later, Heineken N.V., whose Amstel Light brand Mickelson endorsed, cut ties with the golfer. And on October 25, Callaway Golf became the latest sponsor to break with Mickelson, saying it was going to 'pause' a relationship that began in 2004. Blessedly for all of us, Mickelson has been silent and self-reflecting since his apology. And it’s very easy to understand why he has not played in a tournament since then and chose not to defend his PGA title this time. Just imagine the questions that he’d be faced with at a press conference after he finished a round. Greg Norman is the CEO of LIV Golf Investments. Norman, an Australian nicknamed “The Great White Shark,” was a wonderful pro golfer back in the ‘80s and ‘90s. He cut a striking, swashbuckling figure on the golf course–blond hair, tanned, slim with wide shoulders, and a beak-like nose. He won the British Open twice and was a runner–up in eight other major tournaments. Norman sometimes played the role of tragic figure in some of these runner-up finishes, losing on the last hole to incredible shots from his opponents. But he also is remembered for one of the all-time choke jobs in professional golf, leading the 1996 Masters by six strokes going into the final round, only to end up losing by five. Nick Faldo, the eventual winner and Norman’s playing partner. felt so bad for Norman that he took him in his arms and gave him a long hug after the round was finished. Norman was involved in another choke job a few weeks ago, but this time in his role as CEO of LIV Golf. It occurred while he was being interviewed at a press conference on May 11 outside of London, the site of his organization’s first scheduled tournament, to be played in June. Who would ever have guessed that Norman would be faced with tough questions about the Saudis from reporters? Apparently, not Greg Norman. Here’s how the interview was reported by The New York Times: “In a series of tense exchanges with reporters, Norman played down Khashoggi’s murder (‘Look, we’ve all made mistakes’); attempted to distance himself from Saudi Arabia’s recent execution of 81 individuals in a single day (‘I don’t look into the politics of things’); and sidestepped a question about Saudi Arabia’s treatment of the LGBT community by implying it does not affect him. ‘I’m not sure whether I even have any gay friends, to be honest with you,’ he said.” Norman also claimed that he has yet to meet Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman and that LIV Golf Investments is independent and will not answer to the Saudi government or to the Crown Prince. I’m going to take a wild guess and speculate that Crown Prince Mohammed is not the type of boss who would be receptive to being told to “butt out” from a subordinate. So why would Greg Norman decide to get into bed with the Saudis on LIV Golf? For you Wordle players, here are the five letters: MONEY. It’s unclear how much Norman is being paid to front the new league. But in a May 16 story published by the Fire Pit Collective (in which unauthorized Mickelson biographer ]Shipnuck is a partner), Jack Nicklaus, 82, said that he was approached by the Saudis about a role similar to Norman’s: “I was offered something in excess of $100 million by the Saudis, to do the job probably similar to the one that Greg is doing. I turned it down. Once verbally, once in writing. I said: ‘Guys, I have to stay with the PGA Tour. I helped start the PGA Tour.’ ” That’s a lot of money for playing dumb. LIV Golf has certainly caught the attention of the PGA. The PGA has increased prize money on its tour this year by 17% to $427 million. And every member is being offered a $50,000 bonus for making at least 15 tournament starts during the season. In addition to these carrots, the PGA has taken out a big stick. On May 10, the PGA announced that it will not grant membership waivers to play in LIV Golf’s initial tournament starting June 9 in London. Members who choose to play in the inaugural event could be subject to suspension or revocation of their tour membership. This is a highly unusual step because the PGA has traditionally granted members waivers to play in European and Asian events that are not part of the tour. But LIV Golf is clearly viewed as a direct competitor and a significant threat. It’s unclear how this whole disagreement will play out. It’s likely to end up in court. Professional golfers are individual contractors, so the PGA may not be within its rights to block them from their right to make a living. What’s unmistakable, however, is the stench attached to Phil Mickelson and Greg Norman. Alan Resnick is an industrial psychologist with over 40 years of professional experience. He and his wife are sheltering at home in Farmington Hills, Michigan. He is passing the time by cooking, exercising, catching up on friends’ recommendations of must-see TV and writing.

By Andy Borowitz May 18, 2022 PENNSYLVANIA (The Borowitz Report)—With the G.O.P. Senate primary in Pennsylvania too close to call, thousands of American doctors are praying that Dr. Mehmet Oz ekes out a win and quits medicine. Dr. Harland Dorrinson, a neurosurgeon based in Wichita, Kansas, has been funnelling thousands of dollars to the Oz campaign, all donations from doctors hell-bent on seeing the TV host leave their profession. “Like doctors all across the nation, I salivate at the thought of Dr. Oz talking about taxes, infrastructure, and foreign policy instead of the healing powers of magic coffee beans,” Dorrinson said. The physician said that his colleagues’ hearts sank when it became apparent that an easy win for Oz was not in the cards, but they “haven’t given up hope” that his departure from medicine could be nigh. “If Dr. Oz wins, millions of lives could be saved,” Dorrinson said.

By Jessie Seigel / Washington, D.C. In American politics today, it’s a mad, mad, mad, mad world. And the Pennsylvania primary election has been the most crazed exhibition of all. While Lt. Governor John Fetterman walked away with the Democrats’ Senate nomination with 59 percent of the vote, the Republican Senate primary appears to be a never-ending nail-biter. As of the time this story was posted today (May 19), with 97 percent of the vote in, Dr. Mehmet Oz, Donald Trump’s favored candidate, had only 31.2 percent of the vote as opposed to business mogul David McCormick’s 31.1 percent. Kathy Barnette, a far right-wing true believer who came up fast in the polls during the last week of the race, remains a distant third, with 24.7 percent. Oz and McCormick remain neck and neck as the vote tally continues. In statewide races, Pennsylvania law provides for an automatic recount when the margin between the candidates is less than or equal to 0.5 percent of the final vote. Candidates can also ask the court for a recount. None of that seemed to matter to Donald Trump, of course. "Dr. Oz should declare victory,” Trump declared on Truth Social, his Internet platform, before all of the votes were even counted. “It makes it much harder for them to cheat with the ballots that they ‘just happened to find." Sound familiar? Straight from the former President’s playbook. A Wild Ride with Many Wild Cards Dr. Oz had been thought to have an edge in the race because of his name recognition and the Trump endorsement. But while Oz and McCormick chipped away at each other with highly financed ad campaigns (reportedly over $50 million all told), Barnette, in the last stretch, suddenly came up from behind, threatening to overtake them. She caught up monetarily as well—the Club for Growth booking $42 million worth of TV ads supporting her—more than 10 times the amount her campaign had spent on TV up to that time. When Trump appeared with Oz at a May 6 rally in Greensburg, Pa., the MAGA crowd, who had clearly come to see Trump, booed his endorsement of Oz. And when Dr. Oz spoke, some in the crowd even turned their backs on him. Meanwhile, Barnette, a former military reservist, emerged as the super-MAGA candidate—the real thing. Accept no substitutes. And no wonder. While Oz was a latecomer to the Trump script, Barnette was singing Trump’s tune as long as a dozen years ago. In 2010, she decried what she termed the homosexual agenda to dominate the country, and in tweets from 2014 to 2017, attacked Islam. Barnette supported Trump’s bogus claims of voter fraud in the 2020 election, and claimed her own 19-point loss against Rep. Madeleine Dean that year in a strongly Democratic district was the result of voter fraud as well. Barnette also organized buses to go to Trump’s January 6, 2021, rally and marched on the Capitol alongside the Proud Boys. Despite the photos of Barnette marching that day at the Capitol that quickly surfaced, the candidate claimed she did not enter the building and did not know that the marchers who flanked her were the Proud Boys. And then, just after the leak of Supreme Court Justice Alito’s draft evisceration of Roe v. Wade, Barnette dramatically revealed that she was the product of her mother’s rape at age 11, and put out an extremely effective sob story video, presenting the “worth” of her life as an argument against abortion even in the case of rape. In addition, Trump, while purportedly dismissing Barnette, undercut his own endorsement of Oz. Trump charged that “Kathy Barnette will never be able to win the General Election against the Radical Left Democrats. Dr. Oz is the only one who will be able to easily defeat the Crazed, Lunatic Democrat in Pennsylvania.” Moreover, Trump said, without elaboration, that parts of Barnette’s record were not “properly explained or vetted.” But he also opportunistically added: Barnette “will have a wonderful future in the Republican Party—and I will be behind her all the way”—which sounded almost like a Barnette endorsement. It is possible that Barnette’s rise—and perhaps Trump’s hedge—may have cut into the votes for Dr. Oz, causing the race between Oz and McCormick to become so tight. And it is possible that Barnette being Black and a woman may ultimately have hampered her chances. (If Barnette had become the candidate and won the general election, she would have been Pennsylvania’s first Black female senator.) However, the Democratic fates were not to be outdone by the Republican hoopla. On Friday, a mere five days before the primary, Democratic frontrunner Fetterman had a stroke, leaving some to wonder whether, despite his strong lead, uncertainty about Fetterman’s health and his inability to campaign at the end of the race would harm his chances. Clearly, given his 59 percent win, they did not. Fetterman’s wife recognized the early signs and got him to go to a hospital. His prognosis, according to his campaign, is good: the stroke was caused by atrial fibrillation, and he now has a pacemaker that will regulate the problem of an irregular heartbeat. What’s at Stake Put aside all the adrenaline-producing excitement of the political horserace leading up to this primary. What’s important is the significance of the primary outcome to the 2022 election and to the country’s future. Though the Pennsylvania race has, in large part, been portrayed as a test of whether Trump’s influence is lasting or waning, Kathy Barnette’s reaction to Trump’s endorsement of Dr. Oz laid bare the real danger facing our country. Barnette said MAGA "does not belong to President Trump. MAGA, although he coined the word, MAGA actually belongs to the people." And in a recent debate, Barnette was even more specific: “MAGA does not belong to President Trump. Our values never, never shifted to President Trump’s values. It was President Trump who shifted and aligned with our values.” In other words, MAGA extremism has metastasized. Though Trump may or may not still have influence, Trumpism is rampant, expanding beyond Trump and his endorsements. That is his cancerous legacy. And though Barnette is the purest of the MAGAs, both Oz and McCormick adopted MAGA positions as their own. If either of them wins in a general election, which of them it is won’t make a dime’s worth of difference. Dr. Oz is a charlatan who has changed his on-the-record positions at the drop of a hat when it served his ambitions. Originally a respected cardiothoracic surgeon at Columbia University Irving Medical Center in Manhattan, Oz parlayed his celebrity as a regular guest on the Oprah Winfrey show into a long stint on a show of his own. He used that platform to hawk questionable weight-loss aids and so-called miracle cures. During the Covid pandemic, Oz promoted hydroxychloroquine, the same malaria drug touted by Trump, to fight the coronavirus, despite the warnings by researchers at the time that the drug was unproven. According to Politifact in 2019, addressing abortion, Oz “spoke in favor of general access to the procedure, citing patient safety and saying, ‘I don’t want to interfere with everyone else’s stuff.’” But in his current run for the Republican Senate nomination, he suddenly changed his tune, campaigning as “100% pro-life,” and said that he supports overturning Roe v. Wade. David McCormick’s resume hardly screamed “MAGA” either. The CEO of a hedge fund, graduate of West Point, and former Army Ranger served in senior posts in former President George W. Bush’s Administration at the Commerce Department, the Treasury Department, and the White House. But McCormick now supports Trump’s border wall, supports enacting voter ID requirements, and opposes vaccine mandates. His wife, Dina Power, was Trump’s deputy national security adviser. In this Senate race, McCormick was actively promoted by Donald Trump’s Director of the CIA and Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, as well as Republican Senator Ted Cruz, who both supported the January 6 insurrection. And Trump’s notorious senior advisor and speechwriter Stephen Miller, the architect of immigrant internment camps and separation of child immigrants from their parents, worked for McCormick’s campaign. Enough said. In Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass, Alice found herself deciding which of two creatures was least evil. Was it the Walrus who pretended to feel sorry for the oysters he had tricked and was in the process of eating--hiding the shells of those he’d swallowed behind a handkerchief? Or was it the Carpenter, who did not eat as many as the Walrus but “ate as many as he could get?” Alice finally judged them both “very unpleasant characters.” Based on the hypocrisies and abhorrent goals of Oz and McCormick, the same can be said them. Whether the Republican candidate in Pennsylvania turns out to be Oz or McCormick, for the sake of saving democracy, the nation better hope that the Democratic candidate John Fetterman recovers quickly and fully, and beats the pants off his opponent in the general election in November. Political columnist Jessie Seigel had a long career as a government attorney in which she honed her analytic skills. She has also twice received an Artist’s Fellowship from the Washington, D.C. Commission on the Arts and Humanities for her fiction, and has been a finalist for a number of literary awards. In addition, Seigel is an associate editor at the Potomac Review, a reviewer for The Washington Independent Review of Books, and a dabbler in political cartoons at Daily Kos. Of this balance in her work between the analytic and the imaginative, Seigel jokes, “I guess my right and left brains are well-balanced.” More on and from Seigel can be found at The Adventurous Writer, https://www.jessieseigel.com.