Green Man Festival: When the World’s Existential Dread Dresses Up in Face Paint and Wellies By Our Correspondent, still vaguely damp from last year Brecon Beacons, Wales – Somewhere between the sheep-scented mist and the biodegradable glitter, 25,000 humans have once again assembled to prove that collective anxiety can be marketed as a boutique experience….
Madagascar: The Island That Tried to Ignore the Planet and Almost Succeeded By Your Cynical Correspondent From the air, the red laterite roads of Madagascar look like arterial spray across a green body—an appropriate image for an island that’s been bleeding biodiversity since humans discovered you can set fire to forests and call it agriculture….
Weather Las Vegas: A Mirage of Normalcy in the Age of Global Pyrotechnics By Dave’s Foreign Correspondent-at-Large (currently hiding from the sun in an airport bar) LAS VEGAS—The Strip’s thermometers are doing that coy little dance again, flickering between 109°F (42.7°C) and “Surface-of-Mercury.” Locals call it “dry heat,” a phrase that translates internationally as “at…
Weather Phoenix: When the Sky Decides to Rebrand, the World Gets Burned By the time the mercury in Phoenix hit 119°F (48°C) last week, the city had already exhausted the English language for “hot.” Locals were reduced to comparing the sidewalk to a George Foreman grill and describing their shoes as “flambé.” But the spectacle…
House of Dynamite: The Global Powder Keg We All Live In By Our Correspondent, Somewhere Equidistant Between the Blast Zones They call it the “House of Dynamite” now—half architectural metaphor, half punch-line to a very expensive joke. From the outside it looks like any other McMansion of modernity: glass façades, fiber-optic veins, and a glowing…
Today’s Weather: A Planet-Wide Mood Ring That Refuses to Cooperate By Dave’s International Desk, still waiting for the sun to show up to its own press conference Somewhere between the Sahara and Siberia, the atmosphere is once again playing roulette with our collective sanity. From Ulaanbaatar to Ushuaia, “today’s weather” is less a forecast than…
**Forza Horizon 6: The World’s Most Elaborate Distraction from Climate Catastrophe** As the planet’s temperature graphs resemble a meth addict’s EKG and democracy continues its global impression of a drunk tourist on a Barcelona stag do, Microsoft has graciously announced Forza Horizon 6—because nothing quite says “we’re all going to be fine” like pretending to…
The Miracle of Flight, or How to Sit in a Tin Can and Pretend It’s Progress By our man in seat 47B, somewhere between Doha and existential dread Gravity, once the universe’s way of telling us to stay humble, has been thoroughly overruled. Every three seconds, somewhere on the planet, 300 tons of aluminum and…
**The Final Escape Hatch: How Spacecraft Became Humanity’s Most Expensive Coping Mechanism** While Earth continues its slow-motion implosion—climate negotiations that resemble a particularly tedious dinner party where nobody wants to pick up the check, democracies flirting with authoritarianism like teenagers testing boundaries, and supply chains snapping like cheap rubber bands—the world’s brightest minds have collectively…
Every season, the Atlantic coughs up another cyclonic tantrum, and the planet’s newsrooms perform their synchronized grimace: cue stock footage of palm fronds doing interpretive dance, cut to a soaked correspondent shouting into a GoPro like a maritime influencer. Meanwhile, in places where English is merely the language of subtitles, hurricane season is less a…
The “New Look” No One Ordered Has Arrived—Try Not to Blink PARIS—In the atelier of global affairs, the mannequins have been stripped bare and redressed while the world was busy doom-scrolling. Call it the 2024 “new look”: a patchwork of high-tech optimism, nationalist nostalgia, and climate panic stitched together by the same old supply chains…
Storm Humberto Blows Through the Atlantic, Reminding Everyone the Planet Still Hates Us By Dave’s Locker International Desk Somewhere east of the Lesser Antilles—where the rum is cheap, the insurance adjusters are cheaper, and the satellite imagery is in glorious 4K—Tropical Storm Humberto spun up like a drunk tourist who just discovered happy hour lasts…
