Podcasts about sunday read

God has attached His name, honor, and reputation to His people; and that reality cannot help but shape our prayers—and our expectations of God. "O Lord, listen! O Lord, forgive! O Lord, give heed and take action! For Your own sake, O my God, do not delay...," Daniel 9:19 (LSB). As Daniel realized Israel's exile was nearing its promised end, he also recognized that God's people were not ready to receive the renewal God had promised. Unrepentance and complacency characterized many in exile when humble, penitent loyalty was in order. So Daniel prayed. In the opening verses of Daniel 9, we saw how Daniel's private character led him to pray. This week, we'll see specifically how he prays—and what his prayer teaches us. His prayer, recorded in Daniel 9, is a model prayer for God's people, especially those experiencing His discipline, longing for His deliverance, and seeking renewal from His hand. This Lord's Day, we'll return to our study of Daniel 9, focusing on what to pray when God's people have drifted from Him, are slow to acknowledge their sin, and seem unprepared to receive the renewal He has promised. Join us as we consider, "Back to the Future: How to Pray in the Dark." Prepare for Sunday: Read and meditate on Daniel 9:4-19. How, specifically, should the church pray as Daniel prayed? What does this prayer proclaim about God? What does this prayer acknowledge about His covenant people? Why do you think Daniel included himself in this prayer of corporate confession? What anchors Daniel's confidence in God's response? Note: This Sunday we'll also come to the Lord's Table and rejoice in the very promises Daniel's prayer highlights. Let's prepare

Socceroo Nestory Irankunda is part of a new generation of players who have renewed hopes for Australia's chances in the Fifa World Cup. Multimedia journalist Bertin Huynh says as One Nation surges in the polls, those who represent us deserve celebration

A truck-mounted billboard featuring AI-generated images of Victoria's premier, Jacinta Allan, which has been travelling around Melbourne for several weeks now, has attracted a lot of scrutiny. It shows Allan wearing a black pointed hat alongside the phrase ‘ditch the witch'. Victorian upper house MP for the Animal Justice party Georgie Purcell, who faces sexist abuse every day as a female MP, argues misogyny isn't a legitimate expression of political dissatisfaction

When news broke that Australia will buy only secondhand nuclear submarines from the US, it signalled a major shift in the Aukus deal. It's made Emma Shortis, the director of international and security affairs at the Australia Institute, ask: what's a few secondhand subs between friends?

It's been more than two weeks since the Albanese government handed down the federal budget and the criticism has not stopped. Guardian columnist and chief economist at the Australia Institute, Greg Jericho, argues despite Australians with disabilities copping the biggest cuts in the budget, hearts bleed only for the wealthy

After the death of the Warlpiri girl Kumanjayi Little Baby, the Northern Territory government announced a sweeping review of its child protection system. The terms of the inquiry, however, have been heavily criticised by First Nations and justice organisations. Prof Marcia Langton reads a piece she co-authored with Prof Fiona Stanley in which they argue that authorities are repeating mistakes of the past and failing Aboriginal children Warning: This episode contains references to Indigenous Australians who have died

One Nation's historic win in Farrer has drawn conservative politicians into yet another harmful debate about immigration. Author Sisonke Msimang says blaming migrants won't ease the pain disillusioned voters are feeling

Amid fuel insecurity due to the US-Israel war on Iran, Guardian Australia columnist Paul Daley takes his first holiday driving an electric vehicle. Staring down the uncertainty of a long drive and battery-charging breaks – he learns something beautiful along the way

The Farrer byelection is just days away and the former prime minister has stern words for his party: ‘Echo the hateful policies of One Nation and risk becoming a recruiting agent for extremist groups' Follow our Australia news live blog for latest updates Get our breaking news email, free app or daily news podcast

Autism advocate and researcher Clem Bastow argues the inclusive world disability advocates fought so hard for is being torn apart

This week, in the wake of opposition leader Angus Taylor announcing the Coalition's new hardline immigration policy, author Yumna Kassab questions how Australia views itself and its migrants

Christian, how can you know your sins are forgiven? How can you be certain you're fully and gladly accepted by God, though your life is still imperfect and marked by sin? What anchors your hope to a future of perfect humanity, enjoying a perfect creation, forever in God's presence? "Now on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene came early to the tomb, while it was still dark, and saw the stone already taken away," John 20:1. Mary and the other disciples struggled to make sense of what they saw: Jesus' empty tomb affirmed that He had done exactly what He promised—He has defeated sin and death for all who belong to Him. "... Go to My brothers and say to them, 'I ascend to My Father and your Father, and My God and your God," John 20:17. What a wonder this is! Christ's Father is yours, believer. Through Christ, and Christ alone, you are brought into a restored relationship with God, inseparably united to Him—now and forever. How is this possible? Only because "He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him," 2 Corinthians 5:21. On Friday, we'll remember the cross: Christ, our Substitute, the One who was made "to be sin on our behalf." Then, this coming Lord's Day, we'll finish our three-part look at 2 Corinthians 5:21 and its powerful gospel summary. I hope you'll join us Friday at 6:30 pm and again on Resurrection Sunday as we rejoice in "The Risen King: Christ Our Righteousness." Prepare for Sunday: Read and meditate on John 20:1-17, as well as 2 Corinthians 5:21. How is the empty tomb described? Why does John include these details? What helped Mary recognize Jesus? What, spec

Christian, how can you know your sins are forgiven? How can you be certain you're fully and gladly accepted by God, though your life is still imperfect and marked by sin? What anchors your hope to a future of perfect humanity, enjoying a perfect creation, forever in God's presence? "Now on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene came early to the tomb, while it was still dark, and saw the stone already taken away," John 20:1. Mary and the other disciples struggled to make sense of what they saw: Jesus' empty tomb affirmed that He had done exactly what He promised—He has defeated sin and death for all who belong to Him. "... Go to My brothers and say to them, 'I ascend to My Father and your Father, and My God and your God," John 20:17. What a wonder this is! Christ's Father is yours, believer. Through Christ, and Christ alone, you are brought into a restored relationship with God, inseparably united to Him—now and forever. How is this possible? Only because "He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him," 2 Corinthians 5:21. On Friday, we'll remember the cross: Christ, our Substitute, the One who was made "to be sin on our behalf." Then, this coming Lord's Day, we'll finish our three-part look at 2 Corinthians 5:21 and its powerful gospel summary. I hope you'll join us Friday at 6:30 pm and again on Resurrection Sunday as we rejoice in "The Risen King: Christ Our Righteousness." Prepare for Sunday: Read and meditate on John 20:1-17, as well as 2 Corinthians 5:21. How is the empty tomb described? Why does John include these details? What helped Mary recognize Jesus? What, spe

Journalist Shadi Khan Saif grew up and lived in Afghanistan for most of his adult life – until it was no longer safe for him to do so. This week, against the backdrop of Trump's war on Iran and increasing instability in the Middle East, he speaks with host Reged Ahmad and questions if the choices that face civilians in wartime are nothing but an illusion

A right relationship with God has a way of turning things upside down. Consider the evidence: Daniel remained at ease the night he spent in a den of hungry lions, while the king whose law put Daniel there lay tossing on his bed in torment of soul. What a difference a clean conscience makes! "My God sent His angel and shut the lions' mouths, and they have not harmed me, inasmuch as I was found innocent before Him," exclaimed Daniel the next morning. "... and also toward you, O king, I have done no harm." Last week, we saw the character God formed in Daniel before the crisis. This week, we'll see what that relationship with God produces during the crisis. To believe we're kept by God's sovereign hand gives us boldness as His exiles. And to know He favors His covenant people, that our sins have been blotted out, gives us confidence even when we face our own death. Observable boldness and quiet confidence are the fruit of a right relationship with God—and a display case for His power to deliver. Even the wicked, like Babylon's King Darius, see God's power at work among His people. "... men are to fear and be in dread before the God of Daniel," Daniel 6:26 (LSB). "... for He is the living God and enduring forever, and His kingdom is one which will not be destroyed, and His dominion will be unto the end." This Lord's Day, we'll finish our look at Daniel 6, concluding the first half of the book of Daniel. I hope you'll join us as we consider, "God's People in Exile: Conscience Before Confidence." Prepare for Sunday: Read and meditate on Daniel 6, focusing on verses 18-28. What contrasts do you see between Daniel and Darius? Why was Daniel delivered

The Reserve Bank of Australia has decided to raise interest rates once again amid surging costs of living and the war on Iran. Independent economist Nicki Hutley says perhaps it's time the RBA takes its own advice

As Australia risks becoming entangled in Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu's war on Iran, Guardian Australia columnist Paul Daley questions whether refusing to challenge the White House at all costs indulges a US-Australia relationship that no longer exists

God calls the proud to humble themselves. What happens, though, when the proud refuse to be humbled? "... The God in whose hand are your life-breath and all your ways, you have not honored... you have been weighed on the scales and found lacking," Daniel 5:23,27 (LSB). Babylon's acting king, Belshazzar, ignored history, shut his eyes to God's revelation, and disregarded prophetic warnings. He partied and pretended importance while enemy armies camped around his capitol city. The handwriting on the wall of his extravagant banquet hall turned Belshazzar's proud revelry to reality: "That same night the Chaldean king was killed," Daniel 5:30. Belshazzar's end still warns us today: God's sovereign justice is at times swift and final. For God's people living in exile, the proud king's fall is an encouragement that no arrogant empire or ruler stands forever. God will bring down all the proud; some He humbles and restores. Others He humbles and judges with finality. God's people find their hope in the One whose life was weighed and found perfect, lacking in nothing. The perfect righteousness of Christ is our only safe harbor from the wrath that awaits all who are judged by their own merit. I hope you'll join us this Sunday as we turn to Daniel 5 and consider, "God's People in Exile: Weighed and Found Lacking." Prepare for Sunday: Read all of Daniel 5 and meditate on verses 22-30. Based on the text, how would you describe Belshazzar's feast? What is his tone in speaking to Daniel? Why does Daniel emphasize "even though you knew all this" in verse 22? What does the writing on the wall reveal about God's justice? On what scale are we tempted to "weigh" our

This week, as Trump's war on Iran rages on and expands, an Australian Iranian journalist writes about her grandfather's journey escaping the Islamic Republic and the fears she holds for the civilian lives caught in the crossfire. The journalist chose to write this piece anonymously, so Rafqa Touma reads it out for you instead

Punch, a baby monkey in a Japanese zoo, has gone viral after bonding with a plush orangutan. That toy, from Ikea's Djungelskog range, is now in high demand around the world – including in the Guardian Australia newsroom. Education reporter Caitlin Cassidy waits in line to buy a toy and see what the all hype is about

Every Sunday, we'll bring you some of the Guardian's best stories from the week. Stories we loved, that made us feel happy, sad, or just made us think, read by the people who wrote them. Writer and critic Fiona Wright has often joked with her friends that, in order for them to own homes, they'd have to wait until their parents die. But is there a truth to this dark joke?

Every Sunday, we'll bring you some of the Guardian's best stories from the week. Stories we loved, that made us feel happy, sad, or just made us think, read out by the people who wrote them. This weekend, unsettled by how angry our world has become, journalist and author Brigid Delaney explores what we can do to break the contagion of rage we're seeing in our everyday lives

Every Sunday, we'll be bringing you some of the Guardian's best stories from the week. Stories we loved, that made us feel happy, or sad, or just made us think, read out by the people who wrote them. In our first episode, education reporter Caitlin Cassidy sits through the screening of the much-maligned ‘Melania' documentary so you don't have to

For eight years running, Finland has been rated the happiest country in the world by a peculiar United Nations-backed project called the World Happiness Report, started in 2012. Soon after Finland shot to the top of the list, its government set up a “happiness tourism” initiative, which now offers itineraries highlighting the cultural elements that ostensibly contribute to its status: foraging, fresh air, trees, lakes, sustainably produced meals and, perhaps above all else, saunas.Instead of adhering to one of these optimal itineraries or visiting Finland at the rosiest time of year (any time except the dead of winter), Molly Young arrived with few plans at all during one of the bleakest months. Would the happiest country on earth still be so mirthful at its gloomiest? Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

When Taffy Brodesser-Akner became a writer, Mr. Lindenblatt, the father of one of her oldest friends, began asking to tell his story of survival during the Holocaust in one of the magazines or newspapers she wrote for. He took pride in telling his story, in making sure he fulfilled what he felt was the obligation of all Holocaust survivors, which was to remind the world what had happened to the Jews.His daughter Ilana knew it was a long shot but felt obligated to pass on the request — it was her father, after all. Taffy declined because after a life hearing about the Holocaust, she said, she was “all Holocausted out.”But, years later, when she learned of Mr. Lindenblatt's imminent passing, Taffy asked herself what would become of stories like his if the generation of hers that was supposed to inherit them had taken the privilege that came with another generation's survival and decided not to listen?So here it is, an old Jewish story about the Holocaust and a man who somehow survived the pernicious, organized and intentional genocide of the Jews. But right behind it, just two generations later, is another story, one about the children and grandchildren who have been so malformed by the stories that are their lineage that some of them made just as eager work of running from it, only to find themselves, same as anything you run from, having to deal with it anyway.  Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

Online, there is a name for the experience of finding sympathy with Ted Kaczynski, the Unabomber: Tedpilling. To be Tedpilled means to read Paragraph 1 of Kaczynski's manifesto, its assertion that the mad dash of technological advancement since the Industrial Revolution has “made life unfulfilling,” “led to widespread psychological suffering” and “inflicted severe damage on the natural world,” and think, Well, sure.Since Kaczynski's death by suicide in a federal prison in North Carolina nearly two years ago, the taboo surrounding the figure has been weakening. This is especially true on the right, where pessimism and paranoia about technology — largely the province of the left not long ago — have spread on the heels of the coronavirus pandemic and efforts to police speech on social media platforms. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

One day at Wrigley Field in Chicago last May, Paul Skenes was pitching for the Pittsburgh Pirates, carving out a small piece of baseball history in his second big-league game. He struck out the first seven batters he faced. By the end of the fifth inning, he had increased his strikeout total to 10. More impressive, he hadn't allowed a hit.Over the past two decades, analysts have identified a treasure trove of competitive advantages for teams willing to question baseball's established practices.Perhaps the most significant of competitive advantages was hidden in plain sight, at the center of the diamond. Starting pitchers were traditionally taught to conserve strength so they could last deep into games. Throwing 300 innings in a season was once commonplace; in 1969 alone, nine pitchers did it. But at some definable point in each game, the data came to reveal, a relief pitcher becomes a more effective option than the starter, even if that starter is Sandy Koufax or Tom Seaver — or Paul Skenes. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

When Daniel and Victoria Van Beuningen first toured their future home, a quiet villa in the Polish city of Wroclaw, it had been abandoned for years, its windows sealed up with bricks. But something about its overgrown garden spoke to them. They could imagine raising chickens there, planting tomatoes and cucumbers. They could make something beautiful out of it, they thought — a place where their children could run and play.They moved in knowing very little about what happened at the villa before World War II, when Wroclaw, formerly Breslau, was still part of Germany.The couple wanted to know more, and their inquiries eventually led to the Meinecke family in Heidelberg, Germany, elderly siblings who said they were born in the home. Over a long afternoon, they showed the couple pictures of the place from happier times before the war, but they also offered the Van Beuningens a surprising warning: The couple might find the remains of some German soldiers buried in the garden. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

“The force of his will is the thing I remember about him,” says Taffy Brodesser-Akner, who wrote a profile of Val Kilmer for The New York Times Magazine in May 2020. “He was sure he was going to come back to his exact former self. ”The two met for an interview just as a lockdown due to the coronavirus pandemic seemed all but certain to happen.Mr. Kilmer, who was diagnosed with throat cancer in 2014 and had undergone a tracheotomy, was still performing. Mr. Brodesser-Akner credits him with providing “the first whiff of overarching hope and positivity that I'd witnessed in I couldn't remember how many months.”“What does somebody do when the thing that they are known for, which is being a superhero, which is being an action hero, which is being handsome, which is being this sort of picture of good health and vigor, what do you do next?” she said. “And a lot of people, they fade away. But that's not how it went for Val. ”Mr. Kilmer, who played classic roles such as Batman and Iceman in “Top Gun,” died on Tuesday in Los Angeles. He was 65. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

Troy Merritt, a pilot for a major U.S. airline, returned from his 30th birthday trip in Croatia in October 2022 — sailing on a catamaran, eating great food, socializing with friends — and cried. This wasn't back-to-work blues but collapsed-on-the-floor, full-body-shaking misery. When he wasn't crying, he slept.“I've got to find a therapist,” he told himself. And he did, quickly. If that therapist didn't write down “depression,” Merritt would be OK. He could still fly planes, keep his job — as long as he wasn't diagnosed with a mental illness.Merritt, like all pilots, knew that if he was formally diagnosed with a mental-health condition, he might never fly a plane again. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

Sometime in the 1850s or '60s, at a terrible moment in U.S. history, a strange man seemed to sprout, out of nowhere, into the rocky landscape between New York City and Hartford, Conn. The word “strange” hardly captures his strangeness. He was rough and hairy, and he wandered around on back roads, sleeping in caves. Above all, he refused to explain himself. As one newspaper put it: “He is a mystery, and a very greasy and ill-odored one.” Other papers referred to him as “the animal” or (just throwing up their hands) “this uncouth and unkempt ‘What is it?'”But the strangest thing about the stranger was his suit. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

One thing I've learned from being married to my wife, Jess, who is a couples therapist, is how vast the distance is between the masks people show to the world and the messy realities that live behind them. Every couple knows its own drama, but we still fall prey to the illusion that all other couples have seamlessly satisfying relationships. The truth about marriage — including my own — is that even the most functional couples are merely doing the best they can with the lives that have been bestowed on them.This past spring, Jess and I had the first of eight sessions of couples therapy with Terry Real, a best-selling author and by far the most famous of the therapists we've seen during our marriage. Real, whose admirers include Gwyneth Paltrow and Bruce Springsteen, is one of a small number of thinkers who are actively shaping how the couples-therapy field is received by the public and practiced by other therapists. He is also the bluntest and most charismatic of the therapists I've seen, the New Jersey Jewish version of Robin Williams's irascible Boston character in “Good Will Hunting” — profane, charismatic, open about his own life, forged in his own story of pain. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

Jim Tucker could hardly believe what he was hearing. It sounded like fiction, a nightmare too outlandish for an unassuming town like his.It was July 2023, and Tucker was hosting a meeting of the board of Heartland Tri-State Bank, a community-owned business in a small Kansas town called Elkhart. Heartland was a beloved local institution and a source of Tucker family pride: Tucker served on the board with his elderly father, Bill, who founded the bank four decades earlier. All of the board members — the Tuckers and several other farmers and businesspeople — had known one another for years.That evening, however, they were gathering to discuss what seemed, on its face, an epic betrayal. Over the past few weeks, the bank's longtime president, a popular local businessman named Shan Hanes, had ordered a series of unexplained wire transfers that drained tens of millions of dollars from the bank. Hanes converted the funds into cryptocurrencies. Then the money vanished. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

When David Muhammad was 15, his mother moved from Oakland, Calif., to Philadelphia with her boyfriend, leaving Muhammad in the care of his brothers, ages 20 and 21, both of whom were involved in the drug scene. Over the next two years, Muhammad was arrested three times — for selling drugs, attempted murder and illegal gun possession.For Muhammad, life turned around. He wound up graduating from Howard University, running a nonprofit in Oakland called the Mentoring Center and serving in the leadership of the District of Columbia's Department of Youth Rehabilitation Services. Then he returned to Oakland for a two-year stint as chief probation officer for Alameda County, in the same system that once supervised him.Muhammad's unlikely elevation came during a remarkable, if largely overlooked, era in the history of America's juvenile justice system. Between 2000 and 2020, the number of young people incarcerated in the United States declined by an astonishing 77 percent. Can that progress be sustained — or is America about to reverse course and embark on another juvenile incarceration binge? Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

Thousands of years ago, after domesticating cows and other ruminants, humans did something remarkable: They began to consume the milk from these animals.But living closely with animals and drinking their milk also presents risks, chief among them the increased likelihood that infections will jump from animals to people. Some of humanity's nastiest scourges, including smallpox and measles, probably originated in domesticated animals. In the 19th century, health authorities began pushing for milk to be treated by heating it; this simple practice of pasteurizing milk would come to be considered one of the great public-health triumphs of the modern era.Today, however, a small but growing number of Americans prefer to drink their milk raw. And Robert F. Kennedy Jr., President Trump's choice to lead the Department of Health and Human Services, now stands at the vanguard of this movement. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

Here's a strange story: One day two summers ago, Jennifer Khan woke up because her arms, — both of them — hurt. Not the way they do when you've slept in a funny position, but as if the tendons in her forearms and hands were moving through mud. What felt like sharp electric shocks kept sparking in her fingers and sometimes up the inside of her biceps and across her chest. Holding anything was excruciating: a cup, a toothbrush, her phone. Even doing nothing was miserable. It hurt when she sat with her hands in her lap, when she stood, when she lay flat on the bed or on her side. The slightest pressure — a bedsheet, a watch band, a bra strap — was intolerable.Our understanding of pain, and especially chronic pain, is far behind where it should be. We don't know what causes a person with an injury to develop chronic pain, or why it happens in some people and not others, or why it happens more often in women. At a genetic and cellular level, we don't know which systems get out of whack, or why, or how to fix them. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

As soon as Camille Bromley got Ellie, a black-eyed, bat-eared German shepherd puppy, she trained her to be a good dog. And so she was. Two years on, Ms. Bromley started to think she was a little too obedient. Ellie was hesitant, whining when she was unsure of herself, in a way that clashed with her big muscles and pointy canines.The solution, maybe, was buttons. Around this time, Ms. Bromley started to see dogs on social media seeming to express their desires by the most absurdly simple, low-tech means possible: stepping on multicolored plastic buttons on the floor, each disc emitting a word when the dog pressed it. Ms. Bromley scrolled through videos on her phone of dogs pawing FOOD and MORE and NOW, sometimes in that order. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

Ingrid Jackson had never lived in a trailer before, or a small town. She was born in Louisville, Ky., the daughter of a man with schizophrenia who, in 1983, decapitated a 76-year-old woman. Jackson was 1 at the time. In 2010, at 27, she was in a car accident and was prescribed pain pills. Not long after that, she began using heroin. Over the next decade she went through nine rounds of addiction rehab. Each ended in relapse. Her most recent attempt came in 2022 after her son was sentenced to life in prison for murder; he was 21.In eastern Kentucky, a region that is plagued by poverty and is at the heart of the country's opioid epidemic, the burden of addressing this treatment gap has mainly been taken up by addiction-rehab companies. Many stand more like community centers or churches than like medical clinics, offering not just chemical but also spiritual and logistical services with the aim of helping people in addiction find employment and re-enter society. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

“My life has gone rosy, again,” Alice Munro told a friend in a buoyant letter of March 1975. For Munro, who was then emerging as one of her generation's leading writers, the previous few years had been blighted by heartbreak and upheaval: a painful separation from her husband of two decades; a retreat from British Columbia back to her native Ontario; a series of brief but bruising love affairs, in which, it seems, Munro could never quite make out the writing on the wall. “This time it's real,” she wrote, speaking of a new romantic partner, Gerald Fremlin, the emphasis acknowledging that her friend had heard these words before. “He's 50, free, a good man if I ever saw one, tough and gentle like in the old tire ads, and this is the big thing — grown-up.”The judgment would prove premature. In July 2024, two months after Munro's death at age 92, Andrea Skinner, the youngest of her three daughters, revealed in an essay in The Toronto Star that Fremlin had sexually abused her. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

For decades, Big Food has been marketing products to people who can't seem to stop eating, and now, suddenly, they can. The active ingredient in new drugs like Ozempic, Wegovy and Zepbound mimics a natural hormone that slows digestion and signals fullness to the brain.Around seven million Americans take these drugs, but estimates from Morgan Stanley suggest that number could increase to 24 million within the next decade. More than 100 million American adults are obese, and the drugs may eventually be rolled out to people who don't have diabetes or obesity, as they seem to tame addictions beyond food — appearing to make cocaine, alcohol and cigarettes more resistible. Research is at an early stage, but the drugs may also cut the risk of stroke, heart and kidney disease, Alzheimer's and Parkinson's.Major food companies are scrambling to research the impact of the drugs on their brands — and figure out how to adjust. But for Mattson, which has invented products for the nation's biggest food conglomerates for nearly 50 years, the Ozempic threat could be a boon. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

By the time Sam Apple pulled up with his goldendoodle, Steve, to their resting place, he was tired from the long drive and already second-guessing his plan. He felt a little better when they stepped inside the Dogwood Acres Pet Retreat. The lobby, with its elegant tiled entrance, might have passed for the lobby of any small countryside hotel, at least one that strongly favored dog-themed decor. But this illusion was broken when the receptionist reviewed their reservation — which, in addition to their luxury suite, included cuddle time, group play, a nature walk and a “belly rub tuck-in.”Venues like this one, on Kent Island in Maryland's Chesapeake Bay, didn't exist when Apple was growing up in the 1980s. If you needed a place to board your dog back then, you went to a kennel, where your dog spent virtually the entire day in a small — and probably not very clean — cage. There were no tuck-ins, no bedtime stories, no dog-bone-shaped swimming pools. There was certainly nothing like today's most upscale canine resorts, where the dogs sleep on queen-size beds and the spa offerings include mud baths and blueberry facials; one pet-hotel franchise on the West Coast will even pick up your dog in a Lamborghini. Apple knew Dogwood Acres wouldn't be quite as luxurious as that, but the accommodations still sounded pretty nice. So he decided to check his dog in, and to tag along for the journey. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

His wife was spiraling into insomnia, and his children were afraid to go to school, so Jaime Cachua sought out the person he trusted most in a crisis. He sat at his kitchen table in rural Georgia across from his father-in-law, Sky Atkins, the family patriarch. Jaime, 33, hadn't seen his own father since he was 10 months old, when he left Mexico in a car seat bound for the United States.“We have to prepare for the worst-case scenario,” Jaime told him. “There's a chance we could lose everything.”Jaime muted the football game on TV and began to explain his new reality as an undocumented immigrant after the election of Donald Trump, who had won the presidency in part by promising to deport more than 11 million people living in the country illegally.“I'm going to be straight with you,” Sky told Jaime. “I voted for Trump. I believe in a lot of what he says.”“I figured as much,” Jaime said. “You and just about everyone else around here.”“It's about protecting our rights as a sovereign country,” Sky said. “We need to shut down the infiltration on the border. It's not about you.”“It is about me,” Jaime said. “That's the thing I don't understand.” Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

“You couldn't have made this movie three years ago,” said Robert Zemeckis, the director of “Here.”The film stars Tom Hanks and Robin Wright, and is based on a 2014 graphic novel that takes place in a single spot in the world over several centuries. The story mostly takes place in a suburban New Jersey living room. It skips back and forth through time, but focuses on a baby-boomer couple — played by Hanks and Wright — at various stages of their lives, from age 18 into their 80s.Before A.I. software, Zemeckis could have had multiple actors play each character, but the audience might have gotten lost trying to keep track. Conventional makeup could have taken a decade off Hanks, who is now 68, but not half a century. The issue with C.G.I. is time and money. Persuading us that we're watching Hanks and Wright in their 20s would have required hundreds of visual effects artists, tens of millions of dollars and months of postproduction work. A.I. software, though, changed all that accounting. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

Nationwide, just over a million children, mostly girls, participate in cheer each year (some estimates are even higher), more than the number who play softball or lacrosse. And almost every part of that world is dominated by a single company: Varsity Spirit.It's hard to cheer at the youth, high school or collegiate level without putting money in the company's pocket. Varsity operates summer camps where children learn to do stunts and perform; it hosts events where they compete; it sells pompoms they shake and uniforms they wear on the sidelines of high school and college football games.Varsity's market power has made the cheer world a paranoid place. In the reporting for this article, dozens of people spoke about the company in conspiratorial tones better suited to a spy thriller. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

When Maggie Jones's marriage collapsed after 23 years, she was devastated and overwhelmed. She was in her 50s, with two jobs, two teenage daughters and one dog. She didn't consider dating. She had no time, no emotional energy. But then a year passed. One daughter was off at college, the other increasingly independent. After several more months went by, she started to feel a sliver of curiosity about what kind of men were out there and how it would feel to date again.That meant online dating — the default mode not just for the young but also for people Ms. Jones's age. Her only exposure had been watching her oldest daughter, home from college one summer, as she sat on her bed rapidly swiping through guy after guy — spending no more than a second or two on each.Ms. Jones tells her story of online dating in later adulthood, and what she learned. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

A sheriff's deputy arrived at Nathan and Danielle Clark's front door on the outskirts of Springfield, Ohio, in September with the latest memento of what their son's death had become. “I'm sorry that I have to show you this,” she said and handed them a flier with a picture of Aiden, 11, smiling at the camera after his last baseball game. It was the same image the Clarks had chosen for his funeral program and then made into Christmas ornaments for his classmates, but this time the photograph was printed alongside threats and racial slurs.“Killed by a Haitian invader,” the flier read. “They didn't care about Aiden. They don't care about you. They are pieces of human trash that deserve not your sympathy, but utter scorn. Give it to them … and then some.”“They have no right to speak for him like this,” Danielle said. “It's making me sick. There must be some way to stop it.”This was the version of the country the Clarks and their two teenage children had encountered during the last year, ever since Aiden died in a school bus crash in August 2023 on the way to his first day of sixth grade. The crash was ruled an accident, caused by a legally registered Haitian immigrant who veered into the bus while driving without a valid license. But as the presidential campaign intensified, former President Donald Trump and his running mate, JD Vance, began to tell a different story. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

If you take a journey deep within Netflix's furthest recesses — burrow past Binge-worthy TV Dramas and 1980s Action Thrillers, take a left at Because You Watched the Lego Batman Movie, keep going past Fright Night — you will eventually find your way to the platform's core, the forgotten layers of content fossilized by the pressure from the accreted layers above.Netflix's vast library changed the business of television — in part by making a better product and showing the rest of the industry that it had to follow suit — but it also changed the very nature of television. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

There was something distinctly unrelaxed about the way that Tony Tulathimutte, one of the more talented young writers at work in America today, announced the publication of “The Feminist,” a new short story, back in the fall of 2019.“To be clear in advance,” Tulathimutte wrote on Twitter, “feminism is good, this character is not good.”These days, when the faintest gust of heterodoxy is enough to start an internet stampede, it may be wise to put some moral distance between yourself and your protagonists, but as Tulathimutte soon found out, it's no guarantee you won't be caught in the crush. Unlock full access to New York Times podcasts and explore everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts or on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

It was an overcast Monday afternoon in late April, and Michael Oher, the former football player whose high school years were dramatized in the movie “The Blind Side,” was driving Michael Sokolove on a tour through a forlorn-looking stretch of Memphis and past some of the landmarks of his childhood.In the movie, Oher moves into the home of the wealthy white couple Leigh Anne and Sean Tuohy. They take him shopping for clothes, help him obtain a driver's license, buy him a pickup truck and arrange for tutoring that helps improve his grades and makes him eligible to play college football. In real life, Oher went on to play eight seasons as a starting offensive tackle in the N.F.L. and won a Super Bowl with the Baltimore Ravens.Now, Oher is suing the Tuohys, claiming that they have exploited him by using his name, image and likeness to promote speaking engagements that have earned them roughly $8 million over the last two decades — and by repeatedly saying that they adopted him when they never did. Soon, you'll need a subscription to keep full access to this show, and to other New York Times podcasts, on Apple Podcasts and Spotify. Don't miss out on exploring all of our shows, featuring everything from politics to pop culture. Subscribe today at nytimes.com/podcasts.

If Próspera were a normal town, Jorge Colindres, a freshly cologned and shaven lawyer, would be considered its mayor. His title here is “technical secretary.” Looking out over a clearing in the trees in February, he pointed to the small office complex where he works collecting taxes and managing public finances for the city's 2,000 or so physical residents and e-residents, many of whom have paid a fee for the option of living in Próspera, on the Honduran island of Roatán, or remotely incorporating a business there.Nearby is a manufacturing plant that is slated to build modular houses along the coast. About a mile in the other direction are some of the city's businesses: a Bitcoin cafe and education center, a genetics clinic, a scuba shop. A delivery service for food and medical supplies will deploy its drones from this rooftop.Próspera was built in a semiautonomous jurisdiction known as a ZEDE (a Spanish acronym for Zone for Employment and Economic Development). It is a private, for-profit city, with its own government that courts foreign investors through low taxes and light regulation. Now, the Honduran government wants it gone.