This is where, as is tradition for these posts, I get to share my favorite Tonys live performance of all time. If you haven’t seen it, it’s MIND-BOGGLING:

Like the Tom Holland “Umbrella” performance, I have to watch Michael Jeter somehow lose all bones in his body every time this floats past my face. It makes me cry, it’s so good! (He correctly won this year.)

Anyway! To the nitty and the gritty, with the hope that we get something similarly amazing this evening. The Tony Awards, hosted by Pink, are airing tonight — Sunday, June 7 — on CBS and streaming on Paramount+. The telecast begins at 8 p.m ET/5 p.m PT. And, per the Tonys official website, in case you have a very free Sunday on your calendar:

There is no official red carpet — LAME — but Playbill.com will be streaming arrivals live on their site and their YouTube, with a very vague start time of “subject to change depending on attendees' arrival time,” but like… probably 3:30 p.m. PT-ish? We are open for business right now, of course, but Heather and I will trickle in closer to the kick-off of the main telecast this evening and we welcome you at any time. How many stars of The Gilded Age will be present? To quote Mean Girls, the limit does not exist.

As always, the chat is a perk for paid subscribers — we love you! — and if you’re not one, now is the time to get in on this action.

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Every summer for approximately the last five years, I have announced to my husband that we are going to have A FUN SUMMER, no matter what. Yes, the world is on fire (often literally). Yes, things are extremely terrible on many fronts. Yes, Spencer Pratt might end up being the Mayor of Los Angeles and will possibly jail me and Heather for that time we made t-shirts that said, “I Blame Spencer” on them.1 But we all have a finite number of summers in us and we should enjoy them while we can!

This has led to something I’m calling Forced Fun Summer. This summer WILL be fun, we WILL enjoy it, and we WILL look back at whatever we ended up doing and say, “That was fun,” if it’s the last thing we do. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may and all that shit; there will come a time when we can’t enjoy our summer even if we want to! So get after it!

I’ve previously mentioned my personal allegiance to my Notes app, so it will come as no surprise that I currently have a list therein called SUMMER TO DO LIST…

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The other — which I think has been keeping us all up at night — is that Baa Baa Woolly Ramsbottom of the Cotswold Loony Party was undeterred by his loss to Rupert Campbell-Black and stood again in the by-election.

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I feel confident that this is the first potential DWB HQ that’s belonged (technically speaking) to one of Henry VIII’s wives — the one who came to the best end, no less — not to mention the Cromwell connection. In case you were wondering about old Geoffrey de Montbray, his Wikipedia is insufficiently scandalous. Certainly, it cannot compare to a woman finagling her way out of being married to possibly one of the worst husbands in history, or a dude who arranged said marriage and then was killed by same.

Savills goes on to note in the listing that, in addition to what are surely MEGA GHOSTS, the sale includes a working farm wherein “cropping follows a traditional rotation including winter wheat, winter barley, oilseed rape and spring beans.” We can’t be in charge of this! It further clarifies that “private racecourse” bit by noting that “the estate has two professional racing yards, and all the facilities required to support these training centres including gallops, paddocks, and schooling arenas,” something else I’m absolutely not qualified to oversee but I assume we can just keep on everyone currently employed, all of whom I am just assuming, at these prices, are either very attractive or are old and wise in an appropriately filmic manner. Also, apparently, all the stonework has aged well. If only I could say the same for myself. To the rankings! (If you want to zip directly to photos, they’re here.)

KITCHEN: 0 out of 10. I regret to note that there are no photos of the kitchen. Surely it’s not like… just a spit over a fire and that’s it, right?

BATHROOMS: 0 out of 10. Listen, if I’m spending 45 million (imaginary) pounds, I need a photo of a bathroom! Do you want to set the record for highest DWB HQ score or not, here?!?! I even Googled “Edgcote estate bathrooms,” and got nothing. Come on, you guys! Are you telling me that the heir to the Courage brewing fortune didn’t ever put in a soaking tub or something? The listing agent has the glorious name of Crispin Holborow and I’m longing for him to just toss up one snap of a bath. Just one! Help me help you!

GENERAL INTERIOR: 6 out of 10. Having said all of that, the interior photos that we can see — which also, suspiciously, do not include any bedrooms — are extremely nice, even though the staging says, “We’ve already moved most of the good stuff out but we’ll leave you these three rooms for photos.” The panelings and moldings are fantastic, if you care about such things, which obviously we do. And crucially, there is a billiards room.

POOL: 5 out of 10. NO FORMAL SWIMMING POOL. However, there is allegedly “a 8.6-acre lake fed by the River Cherwell” and a variety of pools featured in the listing photos. Can we swim in the lake? Yes, right? I require the ability to go for a swim. I’m not dropping that many millions of pounds without being able to go for a swim. Is there maybe a secret swimming pool in the basement? Cromwell’s ghost can be in charge of towels.

GROUNDS/VIEWS: 10 out of 10 The listing makes specific mention of “gently undulating rural scenery,” and undulation gets at least four points. But even without undulating anything, this place is extremely pretty. There are, as mentioned, Roman ruins! The outbuildings are uniformly picturesque! We’ve got a kitchen garden! One of the pictures of one of the outbuildings even has an adorable dog in it! The entire thing is spectacular in the video included on the listing. Anyway, I believe I am legally barred from giving a Capability Brown landscape anything other than top marks.

BASIC LOCATION: 8 out of 10. Honestly… it seems great? This part of England is so pretty and you’re only about an hour from London. The estate is also apparently near a village named “Chipping Warden” and I feel like we have to award a point just because it would be fun to say the sentence, “I’m heading into Chipping Warden, does anyone need anything?” (If you do, I suspect you are out of luck. I don’t think there’s much in Chipping Warden other than the pubs, although I believe it is adjacent to an alpaca farm!) I deducted a few points because it might be a bit sleepy. What if we want to get crunk?

SUFFICIENT ROOM FOR BROAD ACTIVITIES: 10 out of 10. We honestly might have TOO MUCH room. This estate has A LOT of buildings, and the main house has 25,908 square feet.

HISTORY: 10 out of 10. Hello! Anne of Cleves AND Cromwell, plus a dude who was buddies with William the Conqueror AND all that Pride and Prejudice stuff? We are never gonna top this. I mean, maybe shit will really hit the fan and Hampton Court will hit the market, but otherwise. This is it.

VALUE: 5 out of 10. As usual, I have NO IDEA how to grade this one. On one hand: Anne of Cleves and Colin Firth. On the other, that’s over sixty million American dollars. You know the upkeep is a nightmare! How much is that farm bringing in? Do we get a cut of the racetrack? I need to see some financials here.

GHOSTS? 10 out of 10. There is literally zero percent chance that this place doesn’t have at least one ghost and probably more like seven. Even the listing uses the word “ghost,” which is about as close as any of these things come to just out and saying, “This place is incredibly haunted.”

EXTRAS: 5 out of 10. Additional points for all the bridges throughout the property, which will be fun if we want to spend our afternoons gazes dramatically into the middle distance, plus it’ll be fun to rent this place out to movie productions occasionally.

TOTAL: 69. Nice.

This should be higher, frankly. Man, that lack of bathroom photos will get you every time!

— Jessica

It’s a Motherf’ing Cover-Off

For their summer issues, both the U.S. and U.K. versions of Elle ran four covers with the women from The Odyssey, using different pulls from the same photoshoot by Norman Jean Roy and styled by Law Roach. I hope somewhere, a magazine responds by doing a photoshoot with four women who own a Honda Odyssey. Car & Driver, you can have that one for free. Have Law style it, too. I would LOVE to see him sex up that sensible Japanese engineering.

Anyway, you know I love a head-to-head matchup and a poll, so why not throw them each into the Colosseum that is this newsletter and see which magazine emerges victorious.

Let’s go in alphabetical order, which means Anne Hathaway is first.

The character: Anne plays Penelope, wife of Matt Damon’s Odysseus and mother of Tom Holland’s Telemachus. This one made me jolt a bit, so I looked it up, and Tom is 28 and Anne is 43, so… I guess in Ancient Greece that age difference might track, and obviously they aren’t necessarily playing their actual ages. But I might have a little visual trouble with it. Personally, and with zero knowledge of the movie or its script, I might’ve put Charlize in this part for that exact reason. Penelope wants to remain faithful to Odysseus so she spends the entire 20 years of this journey coming up with ways to fend off suitors — over a hundred of them — because men have always been the worst and so of course she would need chicanery to stop them from taking her against her will. One of her suitors is played by Robert Pattinson, which could be extremely amusing, depending on what his hair is doing.1

The covers: I can only assume the aforementioned story is the reasoning behind the aesthetic here: Anne on the right, sad, staring through the rain spattered window that mirrors her inner tears, and Anne on the left, still sad but also a little bit horny. Elle USA made the braver pick where you can’t get a clear shot of her face, but also, this will be Anne’s third major movie of the year and at this point EVERYONE can pick her out at a distance. So they can afford to take that risk. Elle UK, unfortunately, picked a shot where Anne looks like a before shot in a prescription drug commercial.

Winner for me: USA.

Shot they should have picked, from the ones in the profile: This one is assertive, sexy, and more artistically bold than any of them.

Next we have Charlize Theron, a.k.a. Calypso:

The character: Calypso holds Odysseus prisoner for seven years, in the hope that she can make him immortal and the two of them can bone down for eternity. While poor Penelope is stuck pushing off a bunch of horny oafs, Calypso makes Odysseus sleep with her at night even though he spends his days sobbing on a beach and staring into middle distance. Eventually Zeus yells at her to let him go, and she does, providing Big O with all the materials he needs to build a boat and sail away. I guess that’s the least you can do when you (as I believe it is implied) force yourself onto a dude every night.

The covers: Charlize Theron is a gorgeous woman, and they have made her look so pinched. They didn’t so much “enhance her cheekbones” as “smear mud all over her face and make them look like tiny shelves.” No wonder she seems irritated. I think both of these are abjectly and absolutely awful, but at least Elle UK didn’t choose the one where she looks like a bird who’s just been shot out of the sky and is bleeding out on the English moors.

Winner for me: UK, begrudgingly.

Shot they should have picked from the ones in the profile: Possibly NONE of them? This one makes her look terrified that she’s been tricked into a Xanadu remake. What the fuck is this? Or this abomination? Or Why is she OBSCURED BY FOG. Did they hate her face? If I have to do it, I suppose it’ll be this one.

Welcome in, Lupita Nyong’o.

The character: Helen of Troy, which of course sparked backlash among racist idiots who can’t imagine a Black woman as “the face that launched a thousand ships,” despite the fact that her face is EXCELLENT. LOOK AT HER. She is perfect. Helen is most often described as the daughter of Leda and Zeus from when he was in his swan form — mythology is so bestial — and the Trojan War began when she was kidnapped, or perhaps willingly went with someone she liked better than her husband Menelaus (Jon Bernthal), and he set out to rescue her with Odysseus. I hope we get the scene where allegedly the sight of her bare breasts knocks Menelaus out of a brain fog and reminds him that he loves her.

The covers: She evokes a burning passion in men, so the fires track. Despite seeming a bit spaced out in both shots, I still think she looks lovely, if perhaps a bit like someone is burning down her Las Vegas rehearsal space.

The winner for me: Hmm. I’m going with USA just because I like the assertiveness of having her stare directly out from the page, as if confronting the dolts who are freaking out over her casting.

Shot they should have picked from the ones in the profile: As much as I LOVE the fluid grace of this, for the aforementioned reasons I think they made the right choice centering her face. I’m also really drawn to this one, but her eye contact is best in this one and that matters.

And finally, we have Zendaya:

The character: Athena, goddess of wisdom and warfare and “handicraft,” like weaving and weapon construction. Her role is to protect and guide Odysseus on his journey, while also visiting his son Telemachus in visions, contributing to him eventually growing into Odysseus’s role. She IS the woman of Tom Holland’s dreams, after all, so that’s appropriate casting. I’m guessing the warrior aspect of Athena contributed to these visual choices, which I would refer to as Defensive Crouch, Two Ways.

The covers: I am not tremendously inspired by either one — there is a strange uncertainty to them both, as if someone’s coming and she’s not sure if they’re friend or foe or whether she can pull out her knives in time. The one on the left is more arresting and curious. Is that a branch, a snake, a scarf, a giant bendy feather? All of the above? She looks fierce on a composed way, at least, whereas on the right, she’s fiercely about to unload her bladder all over that tree.

The winner for me: USA.

Shot they should have picked from the ones in the profile: Elle UK almost got it; they chose the one with the hotter boots, but I think her face is better in this one. However, overall, I like the sparkle in this shot — she still looks strong, and cunning, but less afraid.

The winner for ME, then, is Elle USA. But your polls may differ. Democracy! IT’S WORTH SOMETHING!

— Heather

ICYMI

A reminder! The Tony Awards are this upcoming Sunday, June 7, and we will be having a live chat of the telecast here for paid subscribers! (There is no real televised red carpet, which is nutty, but it is what it is.) This one is always a blast — the Tonys rule — and we’d love to have you here. If you’re still on the fence, a reminder that paid subscribers are also getting our recaps of this season of Rivals, and our Heated Rivalry book club (which will be back soon).

Last call

— Dua Lipa and Callum Turner got married this weekend, and she looked perfect. They’re having a big wedding this weekend in Italy, apparently, but this is the legal do. Her Schiaparelli suit is so elegant and the hat is fantastic; the comparisons to Bianca Jagger are also very apt. (He also looks nice.) — J

— Netflix is (finally!) mounting an adaptation of The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, which is my personal favorite Taylor Jenkins Reid book, and it has a new director: Anna Kendrick. She did a great job with Woman of the Hour, and it’s exciting to see her tackle something so beloved. The internet will surely argue about whoever gets cast in this one, but no news yet on whether she’s given herself a part. — J

— I don’t need a cute little blue-and-white striped terry cloth skirt….do I? Terry cloth is kind of back. Look at this terry tote! — J

— Do you want to see Quad God do six backflips on ice in camo pants and a toque? You do. — H

This final season will also go to Greece — which we could guess, because Hot Chef Gabriel sent Emily a postcard inviting her there, but also Collins was shooting in Greece in her post — and Morocco, which I assume is happening because the crew of Emily in Paris wanted to go to Morocco. And I cannot blame them. In fact, I deeply thank whomever is in charge of getting (and paying for) loads of beautiful footage of all these various places I’d like to vacation. I appreciate knowing that I can turn on Emily in Paris and see Ashley Park…

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We are also SPEEDING through story: We go from Tony offering Maud A Midsummer Night’s Dream last week, to the table read AND rehearsals AND the full live televised production all in this episode. Just how much space and time are we hurtling through here? I don’t actually think I mind, because I don’t need to see any more of it than I already have; the play is a means to an end, and boy, do we get to that end (Bottom pun certainly intended), so it’s nice that they are comfortable blowing past the nitty-gritty. But we are racing. I guess the passage of time itself is a loose concept in Rivals anyway. Was last season one month, …

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Hulu giveth, and Hulu taketh away: We got an avalanche of three episodes right off the bat, and then a weekly release of only three more before another hiatus. (In fact, I think episode four is already up; I thought it would come out tonight but I actually think it landed at midnight. Oops.) I will bleat until I am blue in the face that a consistent schedule gives people time to find it, to get hooked, to discuss in ways that propagates further discussion and entices more viewers. By the time folks have warmed up to it being in the rotation, it’ll vanish again. Do not squander this moment! We NEED Sexy Fucking Polo Summer, people! Not just Sexy Fucking Polo Late Spring And Then A Chunky Break.

I’m going to cover these first three three episodes in order here instead of wrapping the plot twists together, because maybe you’re struggling to catch up and you want to be able to read this piecemeal without spoiling yourself. I feel you. I want your tawdry, smutty, shenanigans-filled Rivals experience to unfold on your terms.

But before we get into the thick of it, let me share with you the most important plot twist of all:

OF DAMN COURSE Rivals is a Diet Coke production. I knew it in my soul.

Let’s ride.

Episode 1

I bless this show so much for opening on what we want, what we really really want: ENORMOUS HAIR.

Beattie Johnson’s, on the left, is PARTICULARLY tall and full of secrets. Sarah Stratton (the blond) and Beattie (she of the airplane sex in the first season’s premiere) are now co-hosting Corinium’s gossip show, Uncensored, but they’re primarily here tonight to tell us that Tony Baddingham had an accident. As they narrate their DEEPEST and MOST PROFOUND CONCERN for their CHERISHED PATRON, we flash back to secretary Joyce and henchman Ginger discovering Lord Baddie’s body and essentially trying to put his brains back in his skull. And because this show is the best, the whole montage is set to “Alive and Kicking” by Simple Minds. And of course, that’s what Tony is. He has a brand spanking new Dr. Kimberly Shaw scar on the side of his head — sadly, no wig, because if anyone were tempted to RIP IT OFF in a sinister manner, it would be him — and a case of amnesia… or so he claims, but then Ginger brings him the statue that Cameron used to club him. “She’s gone to Rupert Campbell-Black. Hunt the bitch down,” Tony seethes.

Side note on Ginger: He’s the flagrantly evil-looking second-in-command to Tony and he feels very out of place in this show. I don’t even know what his technical job title is because he JUST seems like a mob fixer. Not that I come to this show for subtlety, but he doesn’t read 1980s, particularly. He’s like a time-traveling brute for hire and anyone rolling with Lord Baddie should immediately be like, “Oh, that’s the guy who spies on people and makes Sinister Arrangements.”

Anyway, Lord B is correct. After finally putting his tongue in Taggie’s mouth, Rupert leaves the O’Hara home — I keep wanting to call it Tara; maybe I will — with a happy little smile, only to stop at the end of the drive when he sees Cameron out of breath and with blood on her clothes. “Help me,” she begs. He spirits her away and they both go into hiding without a word to anyone else. The Venturer team makes jokes about how he’s ghosting them for one of his usual sex marathons, and Taggie’s face is all, “RUPERT WOULD NEVER,” despite mounds of evidence to the contrary. Rupert would EVER, Taggie. He would forever and ever. And he is right now: Of COURSE he and Cameron are screwing each other’s brains out because Rupert cannot be alone with a woman he finds attractive without deciding this is the best way to pass the time. It’s incredible how he compartmentalizes his genuine feelings for Taggie, whom he has just kissed, with his “heroic” “obligation” to protect Cameron via climaxing her back to mental health. I genuinely think if Taggie came to his door to question him, he’d be like, “I mean… what else are we supposed to do?” Rupert is the very reason for Harry Burns’s theory that men and women can’t be friends, because he doesn’t actually want to get to know people before he plunges into their genitals. Taggie being the exception.

Speaking of Taggie, they got rid of that reporter who was halfway dating her last season, and so she just sits on her bed crying to her siblings that Rupert kissed her and then vanished. Her arc for most of the episode is exactly what it was last season: She skulks around the fringes being helpful while wearing chintz, and looks like someone has stabbed her every time Rupert touches another person.

It does not take Tony long to find Cameron, because Rupert’s idea of hiding her is apparently to take her to a property that he owns. Come the fuck on, Bridget. However, this does yield a magical scene in which Rupert speeds his motorbike through the fields as opera music slowly seeps in, and then BOOM, a hot crescendo as a Corinium helicopter rises up out of nowhere next to him and then plows toward his house. Rupert panics, but by the time he gets there, Tony has already loaded Cameron inside and taken off. (She went willingly, after he said, “Sorry I’m late, darling. I had a TERRIBLE headache.” David Tennant must LOVE this job.) They end up at the office, where Tony has a red power suit on a hanger in her dressing room waiting for her to fill it, and he explains that he understands why she did it: He hurt her, and she was defending herself. “I lay in my hospital bed and wondered what this meant for our relationship,” he says, which made me laugh out loud, because typically taking a statuette to the head after you assault someone is a very bad sign for your relationship. Tony offers her a bribe: Come back to his side, in every way, and he’ll magically remember that this was all just a slip-and-fall accident. “You don’t love me. You just want to beat Rupert,” she spits. He shrugs, “Can’t a man have it all?”

So, Cameron puts on the suit and slicks back her hair, and stands with Tony at a Corinium meeting where he says she’s been engaging in a little corporate espionage and has now armed them with the intel they need to fight this battle. He says they’re under attack by “Venturer gangsters” and tells them to be vigilant against poachers. This meeting is otherwise only noteworthy because anytime there is a meeting at Corinium and somebody mentions Four Men Went to Mow, they cut away to at least two hot men in sleeveless flannel shirts and flowing hair, standing by and nodding supportively, as if Tony keeps the actors on standby 24/7. Charles takes this info — about Cameron, not the mowers — back to Venturer, and he’s so convinced that she’s on Tony’s side again that he’s not even swayed when Rupert shows up to give them the scoop. And of course, when Rupert arrives to deliver this information, Taggie is wearing a sensible cardigan and putting the empty glass bottles outside for the milkman. Taggie NEVER gets to be, like, in the bubble bath when he arrives, or on her way out to Da Club.

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Whether being alerted to a variety of emergencies in my and my loved ones’ vicinity is good for my anxiety is a case for my therapist, who I’m not…

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A few points of order: For our purposes, “summer” is the period between days Memorial and Labor. Also, The New York Times did not break out Advice and How-To books into their own list until 1983, so you will find a bunch of them herein. (This includes diet books.) As always, my source for this intel is this robust and helpful Wikipedia page; god bless whatever archivist or librarian put that together. Onward!

1970: As one might expect, the ‘70s start off real weird. 1970 is a two-book summer and those two books could not be more divergent. The first book battling for best-selling supremacy is Up the Organization by Robert Townsend, a dude who transformed Avis into one of America’s biggest car rental companies. It sounds incredibly boring, but it is still in print and still considered one of America’s most influential business management books. I guess it’s all about delegation, which is a useful skill but still: Zzzz. (This is why I didn’t go to business school. Also, I don’t like math.) The other book is, drum roll, Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask) by Dr. David Reuben, which technically came out in ‘69 (tee hee) but is still balling out here. Per Wiki, “[I]t was the first sex manual to reach a large mainstream audience, and had a profound effect on sex education and in liberalizing attitudes towards sex. It was ‘among the top 20 all-time best sellers of the 20th century in the United States,’” and it inspired the Woody Allen film of the same name. As ever, I’ve seen the movie but not read the book — which does have an iconically good cover. Fun fact: Dr. Reuben is still alive at 92; good for him!

1971: The week of July 25 goes to Germaine Greer and her book The Female Eunuch, which I had to read in high school for my summer reading list and absolutely did not get. (This book is not aimed at 16-year-olds, but in retrospect I guess I appreciate my salty American history teacher’s ambition in assigning it.) Otherwise, this entire summer belongs to Dee Brown’s seminal history, Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: An Indian History of the American West, a book I for sure thought came out way earlier than this, and which I ALSO had to read in high school, and, apparently like all the people buying books in the summer of 1971, also found more reliably compelling. Germaine Greer — or, to quote Bridget Jones, “Germaine Sodding Greer”1 — is still alive and a noted hothead, so she’ll probably be mad at me about this entire paragraph.

1972: Summer kicks off as it should: with five weeks of The Boys of Summer, Roger Kahn’s iconic book about the Brooklyn Dodgers. The rest of the summer is a battle between I’m OK – You’re OK, a HUGELY successful self-help book the title of which I would have punctuated very differently, and O Jerusalem!, which is about Israel and Palestine. This is a real mélange of topics.

1973: EVERYONE in 1973 is reading Dr. Atkins’ Diet Revolution by, you guessed it, Dr. Atkins. Once August hits, The Joy of Sex breaks through to the top slot occasionally, but never actually takes over completely, which makes sense given that Atkins was a thing even as recently as, like, ten years ago. You’ll be interested to know that the man who wrote The Joy of Sex, Alex Comfort, looks exactly as you’d imagine, and his Wikipedia is lightly bonkers. Ahem:

Ew. There’s a lot to unpack there. I guess not in Dr. Comfort’s suitcase.

1974: Well! This year is political. The summer kicks off with Kennedy family matriarch Rose Kennedy’s (apparently very non-juicy) autobiography Times to Remember, which leads the list for a very respectable six weeks — it’s not a decade in America unless some Kennedy has a bestseller, even one that a recent Goodreads reviewer calls “fusty” — until the week of June 30, which sees the publication of historic banger and all-time feat of reportage All the President’s Men, which rules the list until the end of November. To place us in history here, All the President’s Men, based on and expanding upon Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward’s reporting on the Watergate scandal for the Washington Post (RIP), was published on June 15, 1974. Richard Nixon resigned on August 9, 1974. I cannot imagine any other book had a chance.

1975: This year sees a battle between The Bermuda Triangle, a book about — wait for it — the Bermuda Triangle, and Breach of Faith: The Fall of Richard Nixon by Theodore H. White, also about the Bermuda Triangle. Just kidding. Fun fact: The Bermuda Triangle author Charles Berlitz, the heir to the Berlitz School of Languages fortune, also considered himself an expert on Atlantis, which he claimed was actually located right below the Bermuda Triangle, and likewise believed in alien visitations. (Many people dismissed him as a crackpot but he had been in US Army intelligence, so maybe he knew something we didn’t!) White, on the other hand, won a Pulitzer for his earlier book about JFK’s presidential campaign and had been working as a highly respected journalist since the 1940s, so possibly was privately satisfied to have knocked off something so objectively kooky. Having said that, which one are you going to fish out of the bookshelf at that lake cabin you rented over the weekend? Exactly.

1976: Guess who’s back! Our old friends Woodward and Bernstein with The Final Days, their follow-up to All the President’s Men, which Wiki notes “concerns itself with the final months of the Presidency of Richard Nixon including battles over the Nixon White House tapes and the impeachment process against Richard Nixon.” This was the last book that Woodward and Bernstein collaborated on — although they occasionally still do op-eds together and remain very congenial. Per Wiki again, The Final Days “became Simon & Schuster’s fastest selling book, surpassing by half again the rate of the publisher’s previous fastest, 1960’s The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich. It debuted atop The New York Times best seller list for the week of April 25, 1976. It stayed in the top spot for 18 weeks.”

Who knocked it off? I’m so glad you asked: Journalist Gail Sheehy’s Passages, which is a self-help book with another tremendously ‘70s cover. Its back-flap copy claims:

Seems like people were kinda stressed in 1976. Nixon’s resigned! Illusions are shaken! People are feeling SEXUAL PANIC. (I personally couldn’t say. I was a year old. Everything was great on my end.)

1977: We have three big books battling it out all summer. Well, correction: two big books and one book, Looking Out for Number One by Robert Ringer that did, indeed, top the list for merely one week in August. Looking Out for Number One is the self-published follow-up to Ringer’s first self-help tome, the pleasantly titled Winning Through Intimidation. (He also had a book out in the 1980s called How You Can Find Happiness During the Collapse of Western Civilization which, uh, I guess we should all try to pick up?) The more major books this summer are the EXTREMELY popular Wayne Dyer book Your Erroneous Zones and the much less confusingly titled The Book of Lists by novelist Irving Wallace and his two kids Amy Wallace and David Wallechinsky, which is just, like… lists, and which I’m sure was very popular on the back of people’s toilets. (Wallechinsky also wrote The People’s Almanac, which my parents for sure owned and I flipped through many times as a child.) How many people do you think bought Your Erroneous Zones because they thought it said EROGENOUS and were really disappointed to open it and see chapters like “The Useless Emotions — Guilt and Worry” rather than “Boobs”?

1978: Our old friend Erma Bombeck dominates the list from May 28 to August 6 with If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, What Am I Doing in the Pits?, which I’m quite sure I eventually read over at my grandma’s house. The rest of the summer does not have a list at all due to an 88-day-long newspaper strike! Who KNOWS what kinda weird self-help and ultimately destructive diet books people got into!

1979: Speaking of! This ENTIRE SUMMER — save one week — is the domain of The Complete Scarsdale Medical Diet by Herman Tarnower and Samm Sinclair Baker. (That one non-Atkins week was blessed with Steve Martin’s book of essays, Cruel Shoes.) As you may be aware, Tarnower was famously murdered by his ex-girlfriend (although a variety of sources did imply he kinda had it coming). Baker, on the other hand, was one of the founders of Miracle-Gro and also wrote a lot about gardening. Two roads diverging in a wood, you know?

— Jessica

The 007 Hunt Is On

The Amazon era of James Bond is upon us: Casting director Nina Gold has officially begun the process of auditioning new actors to take on the role. Accordingly, we are also entering the era of various actors’ management teams making sure they either a) leak stories about them reading for the part, or b) leak RUMORS that they have read for the part in the hopes of implanting the idea in Gold’s mind.

Just this past weekend, Variety ran an EXCLUSIVE!!! that Tom Francis, recently seen in Jamie Lloyd’s Sunset Boulevard singing on the street and then ending up in his underwear, is part of the hunt. Per, of course, “a source with knowledge of the 007 search.” I mean, TECHNICALLY that could be anyone. I, too, have knowledge of the 007 search, because I know that it is happening, so theoretically I could send Variety an email that Jonah Hill is being considered and they could print it with the same attribution. Now, do I think Francis is really in the mix? Anything is possible. Maybe casting directors float these themselves as test balloons, to see how the Internet — we must all fear the Internet!!!!! — reacts. Maybe Francis did a reading but doesn’t want the part, but it can’t hurt for his team to leak it; maybe there is no truth to ANY of it. But slyly making sure everyone knows you probably maybe talked to them feels like throwing a Hail Mary because you have nothing to lose and don’t really think they’re on the verge of hiring you. This recently happened with Heated Rivalry: One random actor from a Netflix show started acting REALLY coy about whether there had been “conversations” with Jacob Tierney and mentioned he can skate and how up-for-anything he’d be, thus earning— or buying — himself two or three weeks of people feeding into this idea. Suddenly people, or “people,” were posting on Reddit that they could REALLY see it and were SUPER warming up to the casting. It had the opposite effect on me, because it seemed so flagrantly like something you would only do if you were desperate to raise your profile.

Regardless, while we may not see anything THAT overt here, the rumor mill is already swirling. That same Variety piece claims Jacob Elordi is also in the running, alongside Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Callum Turner. The only person whose reps have flatly denied any intention to audition: Cosmo Jarvis of Shogun. Obviously, I may have to eat my words on all of this, but I think they need to catch an actor at a particular career sweet spot in order for them to slide into the Bond role without distracting baggage. The better Bonds are not the mega-famous ones. Sean Connery had done theater and some successful BBC and CBC television productions, but James Bond was his breakthrough role. It’s how most of the world met him. Pierce Brosnan had done some other roles but was chiefly known for being hot and charming on Remington Steele, which WOULD have gotten him the Bond gig in 1987 but for a contract conflict, and did eventually nail it down for him once Timothy Dalton’s deal expired. But if Steele fans imposed any of that identity on him, it was the right one for his eventual portrayal. Daniel Craig had definitely worked, and steadily, and in stuff like Munich, Elizabeth, Road to Perdition, and Lara Croft: Tomb Raider, but I would argue he wasn’t a sticky household name and face; Layer Cake, which I think did the most to bring him to producers’ attention, was a $6.5 million indie that made $12 million. Timothy Dalton is similar: He’d definitely worked, and was married to English national treasure Vanessa Redgrave until right before he took over as Bond, but perhaps wasn’t widely known outside that specific sphere. And On Her Majesty’s Secret Service was George Lazenby’s first-ever film (and is widely considered a truly great Bond film despite him never doing another one).

The outliers in this theory are Roger Moore and David Niven, who played Bond in the first Casino Royale, which wasn’t produced by the company that did all the others. Niven is reportedly fine in the role but I’d be hard-pressed to have watched it and not thought, “Oh look, it’s David Niven.” Moore was also quite well-known when he took the role, and the fly in my ointment here is that he also holds the record for the most Bond flicks (unless you include that one rogue Connery movie, Never Say Never Again). But I don’t know many people who think he was a great Bond; he might’ve just kept going because the movies did fine and nobody wanted upheaval. I have a theory that people’s favorite Bonds often are their first, and actually mine was Moore, so I liked him just fine and didn’t think Connery was silly enough. But, crucially, I was also too young to know Roger Moore from anything else, and that may somewhat prove my theory that it’s better when you don’t.2

Jacob Elordi, to me, is too famous to play James Bond (and for my money, too brooding). He’s been nominated for an Oscar. He won a Golden Globe. Of the Bonds, I believe that is only true of David Niven, who won two Golden Globes and an Oscar before he did Casino Royale. But I believe Elordi’s success means he’s surged past his potential Bond window. It happens fast: In Heidi Klum terms, one minute you’re in, the next, you're out. Same with the hella famous and frankly I suspect TOTALLY OVER IT Idris Elba, and Henry Cavill (although that dude has always been Temu Matt Bomer to me anyway). I MIGHT once have felt this was true of Henry Golding, also, but he dropped off in the last few years, and now lives in that zone where people will still be excited and it’s been a minute since they saw him contribute meaningfully in anything else. But at 39, he seems to be outside the late-20s to mid-30s demographic they’re searching in — though only a year older than Daniel Craig was, and also a total dreamboat, so.

Callum Turner is a believable candidate because I think a lot of people may have missed his work, and chiefly know him as “engaged to Dua Lipa.” But he reads too boyish to me, as does Tom Holland, who reportedly wanted it once but may not anymore. Aaron Taylor-Johnson might work in theory because although he’s been around for eons, he still seems best-known for the fact that he was 18 when he started dating his 41-year old now-wife, Sam Taylor-Johnson. There is something unsticky about him: I cover celebrities for a living, but if he walked up to me, it might well take me several beats to pull his name out of my brain and even longer to cite any of his filmography. Then again, that same quality might mean he doesn’t have the aura a good Bond needs. His name keeps coming up, over and over, and yet they’ve never put a ring on it, so maybe they’re not sold either.

GQ, in handicapping this, mentions Harris Dickinson of Babygirl, which I do not see AT ALL, plus — as they point out — he’s busy with that massive four-piece Beatles biopic. Josh O’Connor’s name has been bandied about, but a dude who famously played then-Prince Charles with what felt like astonishing accuracy is automatically off my mental list for James Bond, both physically and otherwise. (He’s a great actor; he’s just not 007.) Regé-Jean Page was once a popular pick, but his career has flagged; then again, under my Henry Golding Rule above, that might also be what makes him perfect. I suspect there’s something too slick about him, all quirked eyebrows and soulful eyes and perhaps not enough grit for the actual action. I find popular suggestion James Norton very boring; my hot take is that Grantchester, or at least the little I was able to get through of it, was a drag.3 The only person on GQ’s list who really sparked something in me is Jonathan Bailey, who may also be too famous as he is the reigning Sexiest Man Alive — but, he was never defined by Wickedmania the way Cynthia and Ariana were and in fact I often forget he was even in it. He’s also barely in Bridgerton anymore. He’s pivoting to the West End to do Sunday In The Park with George in 2027, so that might take him out of it, but he oozes charm and charisma.

Maybe the goal isn’t to get a great Bond, per se, as much as a person who can hold the screen. And maybe you don’t need to be anyone’s favorite Bond; you just need to be a good enough Bond who is given a solid opening salvo and a memorable opponent. I really like Pierce Brosnan as 007 but only really honestly enjoyed GoldenEye; Daniel Craig brings a great mix of toughness and twinkle, but Casino Royale and Skyfall are the only decent ones in his list (the other three are not even visible in the distance for me). I never really warmed up to Sean Connery — I am SURE that is sacrilege — but nonetheless, I will never forget Goldfinger. Moore got the indelible Jaws as a villain, and I remember some ski chases, and obviously parts of Moonraker are totally crackers?!?

My instinct is for them to pick someone who is not on ANY of these lists. Pull a Superman and go with the dude no one knows. Heated Rivalry fantasy casting would have led us all astray, because Team Tierney found two complete unknowns who were perfect and now we cannot imagine those characters as anyone else. (This is why anyone trying to climb on that ship for clout needs to back down and let them work their magic.) So there’s an argument to be made for chucking almost all notoriety out the window and plucking someone from obscurity. The fact that Heated Rivalry was able to do that is no small miracle: In 2026, it’s so hard to be truly obscure. Maybe Team Tierney and Nina Gold should join forces and confuse the SHIT out of everyone by concurrently auditioning hockey players AND spies. It almost makes sense: Both roles require on-camera sex and feats of athleticism, so the criteria isn’t THAT different, right?

— Heather

A spot of housekeeping!

There will be no Tuesday issue next week, due to the Memorial Day holiday, but paid subscribers will be getting their Thursday issue as usual.

Also en route to paid subscribers is coverage of Rivals — that’ll come this Friday, giving everyone last weekend plus this whole week to make sure they’ve had a chance to see all three new episode. After that, it’ll drop on Wednesdays.

Finally, the next iteration of our Heated Rivalry book club was supposed to be this week. Because Rivals came back as a bit of a surprise, we are going to push Common Goal until the first batch of Rivals episodes is over on June 5. Here is what we’re thinking:

Common Goal: Wednesday, June 10

Role Model: Wednesday, July 8

The Long Game: Monday, August 3

Then, Ted Lasso season 4 begins on Wednesday, August 5, so we’ll have coverage of that in some form, plus the remainder of Rivals whenever it drops.

ICYMI

Last Call:

— We’re really getting ready for summer over at GFY; last week, we had robust round-ups of both everyone’s holy grail sunscreens, and we discussed carry-on luggage. — J

— PSA that Elemis is having a big Memorial Day sale — who isn’t?? — over on their site. It’s 25% off sitewide with code MDW25. (They also have some pretty swanky gifts-with-purchase if you spend over $140.) I love everything in this “skin heroes” kit. (You can also buy that stuff individually, obviously.) In terms of other big sales that have already gotten underway, everyone’s friends at J.Crew are laying it out with 40% off everything and 50% off dresses specifically. I support your spending your feelings in any way you deem necessary. (I love this sundress, for example.) —J

— I had to add that J.Crew Factory is having a 50% off sale and I LOVE this pink striped linen blend shirt, which is marked down to $44.50 in this sale; they also have a white one, and a bunch of striped summer gauze shirts that are all less than $40. I have great luck with Factory! — H

— F1 is headed to Montreal this weekend, and the town’s strippers and sex workers are going on strike. The Sex Work Autonomous Committee is fighting for safe working conditions, and their choice of weekend — the most profitable one of the year for the city’s strip clubs, they say — is clearly a pointed one. YOU GO, MEN AND WOMEN OF THE SEXY ARTS. You deserve the same assurances as the rest of us. Stick it to ‘em. — H

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Rivals is a trashy and totally delicious soap that’s set in the 1980s, based on Jilly Cooper’s trashy and totally delicious novel about, somehow, both a retired champion show-jumper/heartthrob/politician, and corporate intrigue related to independent TV stations — sort of like how Dynasty made you care somewhat about who owned which oil leases, except elevate the sex to eleven, or possibly ninety, and add the occasional full-frontal. I am honestly not sure I can do a better job selling you on it, or even describing it, than I did in the fall of 2024 when I called it a “freeform fuckfest” full of “plot thrusts.” To quote myself:

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The Bathrooms of Copenhagen and Budapest (A Very, Very Incomplete List)

These are in order of experience, not preference:

1. SAS’s regular old Economy class bathroom. Friends, it is an airplane bathroom. You’ve been in plenty exactly like it; they all work the s…

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In the end, it was a lot of thunder and not much lightning: Other than one protester who was arrested trying to storm the red carpet, the 2026 Met Gala -- underwritten by Jeff Bezos and Lauren Sánchez-Bezos, two of the most unpopular people on the planet -- was no less starry nor sartorially spectacular than usual. The red carpet -- or, in this instance, the slightly moldy one, which Vogue also used last year and which is still hideous -- was jam-packed with everything from headdresses to wearable sculpture to slinky and see-through sheaths, Rihanna was predictably late, and from what we can tell, nobody picked up any of the 300 rogue bottles of (fake) urine that were allegedly hidden at the gallery and hurled them at anyone. We know asking Rihanna to be on time is as futile as trying to control the tides, but we would have liked to see her interview. Then agai…

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Welcome to the first Monday in May, a.k.a. Met Gala day, a.k.a. the most interesting red carpet event on the calendar. As a refresher, the purpose of the gala is to raise money for the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and it does so in conjunction with the opening of the Institute’s big fashion exhibit for the year.

This year, that exhibit is Costume Art, which the museum says “explores depictions of the dressed body across The Met’s vast collection, pairing garments with artworks to reveal the inherent relationship between clothing and the body.” The gala itself has a slightly different — and pleasantly vague — dress code of “Fashion Is Art” which honestly just feels like Anna Wintour and crew telling everyone to do anything they want because it’s gotten tiresome hearing People on the Internet argue about whether or not Emma Roberts or whoever is on theme. (Saint Laurent is bankrolling the exhibition catalog, so this code is also helpfully giving them the green light to just send their guests out in any old thing they like.)

Another fun fact: Per the New York Times, “This Met Gala is celebrating both the next big Costume Institute show and the Costume Institute’s new home: the Condé M. Nast Galleries. Housed in the 11,500-square-foot space that used to be the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s gift shop, the fashion galleries will now be the first thing visitors see when they walk into the Great Hall.” Cool!

The gala’s official co-chairs are Beyoncé, Nicole Kidman, Venus Williams and (obviously) Anna Wintour, while Jeff Bezos and Lauren Sánchez Bezos are “honorary chairs, providing the main source of funding for the exhibition and the party itself.”1 The Bezos Of It All has caused a ton of controversy. While personally I think there is an argument that funding large art exhibitions and bankrolling related fundraisers are some of the very things that billionaires should be doing, Jeff and Lauren are (understandably and correctly) extremely unpopular at the moment and are also definitely not doing any of this because of any enduring passion for the arts, nor in an understated or tasteful way. The activist group that protested in Venice during their (also neither understated nor tasteful) wedding has landed in New York and is already stirring the pot; I would not be surprised if they managed to get a protester on the carpet, which would be exciting for all of us. (I don’t even think Anna would be that mad; they’d get so much more press!) Andrew Bolton has made a huge point of saying the Institute has been saving scrupulously and might be self-sustaining in 2-4 years, and I can’t help but think he is desperate to imply, “Billionaires will not be required much longer so everyone please hang in there.”

Bezoses aside, this year, the gala “host committee” — an honorary position that basically just assures these people show up, IMO — includes celebrities Adut Akech, Angela Bassett, Sabrina Carpenter, Doja Cat, Gwendoline Christie, Misty Copeland, Elizabeth Debicki, Lena Dunham, Rebecca Hall, Lisa, Sam Smith, Teyana Taylor, A’ja Wilson, Chase Sui Wonders, and Yseult, among other luminaries. This raises an interesting question: Will the Bezos Effect lead to a less starry red carpet than previously, if folks would rather not be associated with them? (Remember, Charlize Theron once publicly said that everyone who went to the Bezos/Sanchez wedding sucks.) Probably not, realistically. Either way, I am excited to see what some of those people plan to wear to this.

So how to do that? Great question! The whole shebang kicks off today, Monday, May 4 at 3 pm PST/6 pm EDT on Vogue.com, and streams on all of Vogue’s digital platforms, including their YouTube channel and TikTok. This year’s livestream hosts are old friends Ashley Graham, La La Anthony, and Cara Delevingne, with Emma Chamberlain popping in occasionally again to remind us that she’s actually very charming on film. Vogue’s presser about the livestream implies they’ve got a new production company running this — the folks who did Sabrina Carpenter’s Coachella set — so hopefully it will be more technically adept than usual. (Or not! It’s way more fun for us when the entire thing is a bit of a mess. Perfection is boring.) Here at Drinks With Broads, we’ll start chatting below at 3 pm PST, too. Want to join the fun?

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These Naked B…

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HBO shared a statement about this dramatic turn of events with The Hollywood Reporter (and everyone else who asked), saying:

Obviously, this has kicked off a spot of gossip. The Daily Mail claims HBC quit in a huf…

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Friends, it is a Christmas catalog. How many springtime items can it offer? “I am an idiot,” I said to myself, as I took it out of my fireproof safe (read: the pile on my desk) and flipped through it. Well! That is probably true but the good news is that 1981-era Sears executives correctly realized that the parents of America probably still wanted to buy something for their kids for Christmas that they could use in the warmer months and, hence, there’s plenty to discuss. We’re back, baby! (But I did promptly purchase a 1980 Spring/Summer catalog, so I can look at whatever weird and possibly problematic luau-related goods and/or bathing suits were for sale in legitimately warmer months…

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Welcome to our first book club post, in which we discuss the installments of Rachel Reid’s Game Changers series that were not included in the Crave adaptation. I’m excited to road-test this concept with you all — and I am absolutely winging it here, so as we progress please do let me know if there’s anything to add or subtract or approach differently. Certainly the books themselves will dictate that, as some are meatier than others.

On that note: I would love to keep the discussion as contained as possible to each book without looking forward. So, for example, even if everyone has totally read all of them already, I don’t think we should get into the weeds about what appears in The Long Game or Role Model until we actually arrive at those novels; I hope we can treat each book as if we’re really discovering them in the order in which Reid wrote them. That might not be possible, but there also might BE people who are reading along for the first time and I don’t want to spoil it for them. When we get to The Long Game, we can let it all out. Can’t wait.

Also, someone asked why we aren’t starting at the beginning with Game Changer and Heated Rivalry. I felt like maybe we’d discussed those pretty well when the show recaps came out, even just vis a vis the adaptation, but maybe we’ll tack them onto the end if there’s still an appetite to revisit them.

Tough Guy

This is the third tome in Reid’s series — the first two of course being, in order, Game Changer (adapted into Heated Rivalry’s third episode, and the end of its fifth), and Heated Rivalry. It also seems to rank pretty near the bottom of people’s favorites list. Granted, there are only six published at the moment, so it’s not that HARD to fall into the lower portion, but I get the sense that Game Changer, Tough Guy, and Common Goal are all finishing last, and it’s just a question of what order. I haven’t read Common Goal yet, so I’m looking forward to that next month and to figuring out what my actual ranking is; Game Changer isn’t BAD so much as it suffers from being, effectively, Rachel Reid’s warm-up book. There was good raw material there, but it’s overlong and overstuffed with sex scenes that don’t do anything for the plot. They stop being memorable and start being wallpaper. Reid herself has talked about learning the art of having the sex scenes be part of the story rather than what grinds it to a halt, and how she applied that lesson to Heated Rivalry. But, Kip and Scott are solid characters, and you can’t beat their big climax. (Their PLOT climax, that is; we’ve already covered that there are like 345 other climaxes.) It sets a solid foundation for what the series will become, and because it’s already made it to the screen, it’s difficult not to look fondly upon it when it gave us Wolf Parade and “I’m coming to the cottage.” As a novel, though, I don’t think it swims alongside HR, The Long Game, and Role Model. And neither does Tough Guy. Right now I’d put Tough Guy at the bottom.

The Plot, Quickly

Our main characters are Toronto Guardians defenseman Ryan Price and musician Fabian Saleh, the former being a character we first encounter in Heated Rivalry’s novel when Ilya sits next to him on a plane and notices his fear of flying. The scene serves a couple purposes related to Ilya: We’re reminded he is still working on his English (he gives Ryan his headphones and reads the subtitles on the movie they watch together), he is trying to keep his mind off Shane Hollander’s juicy prostate, and he’s a lot more perceptive and sensitive than he wants anyone to know. For Ryan, it probably exists because Reid wanted to scatter in some folks she could use in future books. If you have only watched the show, this moment gets distilled into episode 4, pre-tuna meltdown, when Shane and Ilya are watching Ryan play in a Buffalo game and briefly talk how often he’s traded, and how he once played with Ilya, which gives him the chance to say Ryan isn’t what people expect him to be (wink wink, neither are Ilya and Shane). Without knowledge of the books, it just passes for small talk between them — something they hadn’t done much of before — but now it feels like, much as with Reid, perhaps Jacob Tierney threw it in there in case he’d need it in the future. Can’t fault either for that.

Ryan Price is a six-foot-seven Yukon Cornelius of a dude. Or actually maybe more like this:

As such, while he’s technically a defenseman, Ryan mostly bounces around the league on one-year contracts and plays the role of enforcer. In essence, if someone really smashes one of your team’s guys, especially the stars, the enforcer will start a fight either with them or someone else on the team for a little light revenge. Or, if your team is losing 5-0 in the playoffs, the enforcer might start some shit just to DO it, to inject fight and feistiness that might carry the team to the next game and prevent another blowout. It’s very stupid and also kind of fun. Like, objectively, fighting is a dumb Neanderthal thing to do, and probably there are plenty of Neanderthals who would be like, “Excuse me, I just made this glorious cave painting, and you’re telling everyone all I do is smack Ogg on the head with my club? FOR SHAME.” But it’s part of the game, and in this case, it’s used to portray Ryan as a gentle giant who is merely playing the role of, ahem, a Tough Guy when he’s on the ice.

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On the surface, it tracks. Teens are buying cassettes and CDs, inexplicably, and since as far back as 2021, they’ve been scouring eBay for vintage iPods to replace the all-in-one convenience of their phones. Someone’s 128 GB black scroll-wheel model is going for $225 on eBay. Smoking is back (gross, you dummies, don’t do this). It tracks that there’d be a fascination with yesteryear that might extend to printed materials, and as much as I balk at and reject the idea that my youth is somebody’s kitschy retro playground, I would love to see magazines return and if they’re willing to shell out for tape decks then maybe Kids Today will learn the wonders of bringing a glossy onto an airplane for entertainment.

But in this scenario, I imagine a …

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