State of the Times

The 'deconstructed rustic' dining movement has arrived, and it looks exactly as pretentious as it sounds.

In a move that stunned absolutely everyone including themselves, members of both parties agreed on something. Sources say it felt 'weird' and 'uncomfortable.'

The company's pitch deck contains 47 slides, the word 'synergy' appears 23 times, and not one person on the board can explain what it does.

Milan-Cortina's opening spectacle was technically flawless except for one avian interloper who stole the show and the internet's heart.

Studio executives confirmed the project is 'a bold reimagining' which in Hollywood means 'the same thing but darker and with a different font.'

The State Department's new 'Digital Diplomacy Initiative' aims to resolve international conflicts 280 characters at a time.

A newly discovered deep-sea creature is already being described as 'hauntingly photogenic' by marine biologists who definitely became scientists for the right reasons.

The 2026 Winter Olympics opened in Milan-Cortina with a ceremony celebrating Italian heritage, global unity, and the noble fiction that sports exist outside politics.

New data reveals what we all suspected: the real Mona Lisa was the refrigerator magnet we bought along the way.

The 12-minute performance required 600 dancers, a floating stage, and a budget that could have funded a small space program.

The latest connected appliances can track your eating habits, sleep schedule, and emotional state. The privacy policy is 74 pages long. Nobody has read it.

Researchers tracked 2,000 participants' 'saved for later' lists and found a completion rate of 3%. The other 97% is digital guilt in bookmark form.

With 14 major platforms competing for your $15/month, the real entertainment is deciding which subscription to cancel this week.

TikTok went dark in America for about 14 hours. Gen Z experienced the five stages of grief at double speed. Then it came back.

Los Angeles burned. Palisades, Altadena, entire neighborhoods gone. Fire hydrants ran dry. The city of angels had to reckon with the limits of everything.

Donald Trump won the 2024 presidential election. Whether this was a triumph or a catastrophe depended entirely on which America you lived in.

A total solar eclipse crossed the United States and for 4 minutes, nobody was arguing about anything. It was the most unified the country had been since 9/12.

The Pokémon card market exploded again, driven by nostalgia, YouTube box breaks, and adults who realized their mom threw away a retirement fund.

The 49ers lost to the Chiefs in overtime. Again. In a Super Bowl. Again. At some point this stops being bad luck and starts being mythology.

Two wildly different films opened on the same weekend. The internet mashed them together. Theaters were saved, briefly.

Five people boarded a submersible held together with questionable engineering to visit the Titanic. The sub was steered with a game controller. It imploded.

Tina Turner died at 83. She survived Ike, reinvented herself at 44, and became the definition of a comeback that wasn't really a comeback — it was an arrival.

The Eras Tour grossed over $2 billion, boosted local economies wherever it landed, and proved that Taylor Swift is less a musician and more a macroeconomic event.

ChatGPT hit 100 million users in two months and suddenly everyone's uncle had an opinion about artificial intelligence.

The Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. Half the country had been bracing for it since the draft leaked. It still hit like a freight train.

Russia invaded Ukraine. A comedian-turned-president became a wartime leader. Europe remembered what conflict on its borders actually looks like.

America got vaccinated, ripped off its masks, and went absolutely feral at brunch. For about eight weeks, we thought it was over.

A mob stormed the United States Capitol. A man in a Viking helmet sat in the Speaker's chair. This was real. This was the country.

Election Night 2020 didn't end on election night. Or the next night. Or the night after that. Nevada was still counting when Thanksgiving planning started.

Ruth Bader Ginsburg died at 87. The political earthquake started before the obituaries were finished.

A man was murdered on camera by a police officer kneeling on his neck. The country that watched it happen had to decide what it was going to do about it.

When the world shut down, gaming went from hobby to lifeline. Animal Crossing was therapy. Among Us was socialization. Twitch was the new watercooler.

The NBA suspended its season, Tom Hanks got COVID, and America learned the phrase 'social distancing' — all on the same Thursday.

The 49ers led the Chiefs 20-10 in the fourth quarter of Super Bowl LIV. They lost 31-20. If you're a Niners fan, you already knew that.

Kobe Bryant died in a helicopter crash in Calabasas. It was 10 AM on a Sunday and nobody could process a single thing for the rest of the month.

Avengers: Endgame grossed $2.8 billion and concluded the most ambitious cinematic project ever attempted. Then superhero fatigue arrived like a hangover.

Stan Lee died at 95. He co-created Spider-Man, the X-Men, the Avengers, and the modern mythology that now generates $30 billion a year.

Breath of the Wild launched with the Switch and reminded everyone what games feel like when a developer respects your intelligence.

The 2016 election proved that social media wasn't just a place to share baby photos. It was the most powerful political weapon ever built. Nobody had read the terms of service.

Final Fantasy TCG Opus I launched globally, combining gorgeous Amano artwork with a resource system that punished greed. The competitive scene nobody expected was born.

Lemonade premiered on HBO with no warning. It was a film, an album, a cultural event, and possibly the most elaborate subtweet in history.

David Bowie died two days after releasing Blackstar, an album that turned out to be his goodbye letter. Even his exit was art.

Michael Jackson died at 50. The internet almost broke. TMZ got the scoop. The world mourned the most complicated entertainer who ever lived.

The Dark Knight grossed a billion dollars, won a posthumous Oscar, and convinced Hollywood that every franchise needed to be gritty and serious. Most of them were wrong.

From Iron Man to Endgame, the MCU spent eleven years building something Hollywood had never attempted: a 22-film serialized narrative that actually stuck the landing.

The iPhone launched. It was a phone, an iPod, and an 'internet communications device.' That third one ate the other two and then ate everything else.

WoW launched and redefined what a game could be: a second life, a social network, and a relationship destroyer — all for $14.99/month.

TheFacebook.com launched from a Harvard dorm room. Its original purpose was to connect college students. Its actual purpose turned out to be far more complicated.

Napster let you download any song ever recorded for free. The music industry sued it into oblivion. The genie was already out of the bottle.

The Matrix asked 'what if reality was a simulation?' and an entire generation said 'yeah that tracks.' The sequels never recaptured this moment.

The Pokémon TCG launched in the US and turned every elementary school into a trading floor. The holographic Charizard became the most valuable piece of cardboard since the Declaration of Independence.

Google launched from a garage in Menlo Park. Its homepage had nothing on it. This turned out to be a $2 trillion design decision.

Pokémon Red and Green launched in Japan on a console everyone thought was dead. It became the biggest media franchise in human history.

The NFL introduced the salary cap. San Francisco won one more ring with Steve Young, then spent the next two decades learning what parity actually means.

Magic: The Gathering launched at Gen Con with 2.6 million cards. They sold out immediately. The trading card game was born, and wallets everywhere wept.

Nirvana released Nevermind. By January it had knocked Michael Jackson off the Billboard #1. The '80s were officially over.

Tim Berners-Lee published the first website. It was a page about the World Wide Web project. It was ugly. It changed everything.

Down 16-13 with 3:10 left, Montana spotted John Candy in the stands, told his teammates, and then drove 92 yards to win the Super Bowl.

The NES launched in the US two years after the video game crash. Retailers didn't want it. Kids did. The rest is a $200 billion industry.

The hype was Montana vs. Marino, the two best quarterbacks alive. The game was 38-16. So much for drama.

Joe Montana rolled right, threw high, and Dwight Clark went up and got it. Six seconds left. A dynasty born in a single frame.

The first message sent over ARPANET was supposed to be 'LOGIN.' The system crashed after 'LO.' Which, honestly, is the most internet thing possible.