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News 20.09.21 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

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News 20.09.21 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets
@lovisabarkman
News 20.09.21 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets
@aminamuaddi
News 20.09.21 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets
@clairerose

I like to think of America’s fast-food chains as a bunch of dysfunctional family members. McDonald’s is the golden boy, the kid who’s good at everything and won’t shut up about it. Burger King is the jealous younger brother. KFC is perhaps the cousin who still wears cargo shorts. And then, there’s Taco Bell: fast food’s problem child.

The purveyor of fluorescent nacho cheese is just plain weird. I’m not simply talking about those tacos with Doritos for shells. This is a brand that reportedly spent $500 million on an ad campaign featuring Gidget, a talking chihuahua with the catchphrase “Yo quiero Taco Bell!” A completely real tagline on Taco Bell’s webpage for its fountain drinks reads: “Taco Bell Cups, Matryoshka Dolls, and the Multiplicity of Human Existence.” (It only gets weirder from there.)

Read the rest of this article at: The Atlantic

News 20.09.21 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

News 20.09.21 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

It’s simple, we are often told: All you have to do to maintain a healthy weight is ensure that the number of calories you ingest stays the same as the number of calories you expend. If you take in more calories, or energy, than you use, you gain weight; if the output is greater than the input, you lose it. But while we’re often conscious of burning calories when we’re working out, 55 to 70 percent of what we eat and drink actually goes toward fueling all the invisible chemical reactions that take place in our body to keep us alive. “We think about metabolism as just being about exercise, but it’s so much more than that,” says Herman Pontzer, an associate professor of evolutionary anthropology at Duke University. “It’s literally the running total of how busy your cells are throughout the day.” Figuring out your total energy expenditure tells you how many calories you need to stay alive. But it also tells you “how the body is functioning,” Pontzer says. “There is no more direct measure of that than energy expenditure.”

Though scientists have been studying metabolism for at least a century, they have not been able to measure it precisely enough — in real-world conditions, in enough people, across a broad-enough age range — to see how it changes throughout the human life span. It is clear that the bigger someone is, the more cells they have, and thus the more total calories they burn per day. But it has been much harder to assess whether variables like age, sex, lifestyle and illness influence our rate of energy expenditure. This lack of data led to assumptions rooted in personal experience: for instance, that significant hormonal changes like those that take place during puberty and menopause cause our metabolism to speed up or slow down, prompting us to burn more or fewer calories per day; or that men have inherently faster metabolisms than women, because they seem able to shed pounds more easily; or that our energy expenditure slows in midlife, initiating gradual and inevitable weight gain. “I’m in my 40s; I feel different than I did in my 20s — I buy it, too,” Pontzer says. “All that intuition was never backed up by data. It just seemed so sure.”

Read the rest of this article at: The New York Times

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When the beer finally started to taste good, they bottled samples to take around to regional distributors. Their big break came when Shufelt met with the Whole Foods regional buyer in New Jersey. “He was our first believer,” Shufelt said.

The company has grown rapidly, in part because some of Shufelt’s former colleagues in finance are investors in Athletic. Shufelt and Walker opened a large brewery in San Diego in June, 2020, and plan to open an even larger one in Connecticut in 2022. They want Athletic to be the Sam Adams of N.A. craft beer: a national, category-defining brand.

As I talked with Shufelt and Walker, I realized that I was feeling a bit buzzed. My face felt hot, and my pulse was elevated. It wasn’t the beer—my glass of Two Trellises contained hardly more alcohol than an overripe banana, and my body was metabolizing the ethanol within minutes of my ingesting it. The buzz that I was feeling was a kind of placebo effect, produced by aroma and taste but also by the dimly lit taproom, the stools, the bar, and us in a close circle, talking and drinking.

Read the rest of this article at: The New Yorker

News 20.09.21 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

News 20.09.21 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

Later that week, in a video now viewed tens of thousands of times, Jada Brooke fanned the flames. She’d spoken to a family member of Dylan’s, she said, who was “on our side and agrees that something’s not right here.” “I had a vision of him being kicked down a set of stairs … That was actually verified to me,” she told viewers, providing no evidence. She said she’d had a vision of a shallow grave between two trees, 5 or 6 feet apart, on a property that also held a red and white truck. That led a Truro resident named Dawn to a field that held a red and white horse trailer. Inspired, a band of residents broke into the trailer. They found a pile of dry hay, which Brooke called suspicious for its lack of mold. Brooke triumphantly pointed out that the trailer, which sat in front of a stand of trees, was proof her vision had been accurate. “If I go quiet or something in the group for a while, just remember, I have six kids of my own, I home-school four. I’m a very involved mother. My kids don’t go missing, you know what I mean?”

The abuse spilled beyond accusations about the couple’s parenting. Jason received scam ransom notes from online trolls; one included a doctored picture of Dylan’s face, battered with bruises over his right eye and a deep gash on his lip. “You must transfer 3 bitcoins,” the message read, “within 72 hours.” The sender, a Facebook account under the name Brad, told Jason he’d release his son once the transfer was made, and if he didn’t, he’d never see him again. “You have 3 days to save Dylan’s life,” he wrote.

After six days, with no new evidence—no footprints or debris or credible sightings—the police called off their search. Nothing but rain boots. But Jason didn’t stop. He walked the creek bed day after day, drawing dozens of locals to help. The GoFundMe page would raise about $12,500 for the family. Ashley and Jason offered it up as a reward for any information.

Read the rest of this article at: Wired

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News 20.09.21 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

Back in those once-upon-a-time days when everything felt right, there were me and my boys, the lot of us, posing hard for the camera. Our image offers testimony. The year is 2003 and we are on the cusp of graduation, the rest of our lives at our feet. It’s early fall in Southern California, which means movie-blue skies and Friday night football games and weekend hangs at the Bridge. I’m almost done with high school and out of L.A., almost on the way to everything that happens after. But before I can get there, the ambrosia of the past arrives sweet and unexpected.

I hold the photograph tight, my thumb over it, and I return to a before place: those bright and unsettled years of the new millennium. There are nine of us, grouped together just outside the cafeteria windows, posturing like we own the lunch yard, like we have it all. Almost everyone is here: Jonathan and JP and Courtney and Ian and Dimitri and Josh and Armand and Adarious and me. We flex with a fantastic innocence, not yet hardened in the way we pretend to be, our faces conveying baby-smooth toughness.

I find more photos like this — ones that talk, ones that ferry nostalgia of the days I sometimes struggle to remember, of the days that whisper in the crowded room of my memory. The photos spill, spill, spill with color and sound. I hear the chorus of my Los Angeles teenhood: the howl and crack of laughter across lunch tables, the awkward courtship of young bodies in the hallways of Culver City High, the rhythm of my dreams. These memories live somewhere in the before and in the after; they stretch a great distance to reach me, to remind me. The memories are what I make and have already been made by.

Read the rest of this article at: Los Angeles Times

P.S. previous articles & more by P.F.M.