newyorker--2020-04-15--The Case for Joe Biden to Pick Elizabeth Warren as His Running Mate

Senator Elizabeth Warren ’ s endorsement of Joe Biden for President , which came on Wednesday morning , had little of the Sturm und Drang of the endorsement , two days prior , from Bernie Sanders .
It also lacked the fanfare that accompanied Barack Obama ’ s lengthy salutation to Biden , on Tuesday .
But , in some ways , the home video that Warren posted on Twitter was the most effective of the three endorsements .
When Sanders appeared in a live-stream conversation with Biden , it looked like the digital-age equivalent of a battlefield armistice : @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a common foe .
Obama ’ s twelve-minute video seemed to be almost as much about the former President reëntering the political stage as it was about Biden .
By contrast , Warren ’ s message was relatively brief—her video lasted about two and half minutes—and it focused primarily on Biden as a person .
After mentioning the former Vice-President ’ s middle-class roots and his long career as a public servant , Warren brought up the personal tragedies that he has endured and said , “ These experiences animate the empathy he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ no matter what their story .
Empathy matters.
” Then she went on to the crux of the matter for virtually all Democrats : the overwhelming need to defeat Donald Trump .
In this moment of crisis , Warren said , it is essential “ that the next President restores Americans ’ faith in good , effective government .
.
.
.
We can ’ t afford to let Donald Trump continue to endanger the lives and livelihoods of every American .
And that ’ s why I ’ m proud to endorse @ @ @ @ @ @ @ States.
” Given Warren ’ s rocky history with Biden , which dates back to a 2005 bankruptcy bill that he supported and she vehemently opposed , she could have left things there .
( That was pretty much what Sanders did . )
Or she could have followed Obama ’ s example and talked about the future of the Democratic Party .
Instead , she went on to recall how , after the Boston Marathon bombing , in 2013 , Biden spoke movingly at a memorial service in that city .
She @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as a U.S .
Senator , in 2013 , when he jokingly referred to the hell she had given him about the bankruptcy bill but also told her that she would do a great job .
“ Because that ’ s the thing about Joe : he wants you in the fight , ” she said .
“ And , when you are in a fight with Joe at your side , you know you have a partner who is committed to getting something good done for this country .
Joe Biden is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ committed to the fight for social , racial , and economic justice .
.
.
.
And now it ’ s up to all of us to make Joe Biden the next President of the United States.
” How to explain such a warm and fulsome endorsement ?
Despite their political differences , Warren and Biden have a personal connection based on the fact that “ they are both politicians and fighters , ” Felicia Wong , the president and C.E.O .
of the Roosevelt Institute , an economic-policy think tank that has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on Wednesday afternoon .
And , indeed , Biden , in a tweet hailing Warren ’ s endorsement , said “ I ’ m proud to have the fiercest of fighters , Senator @ ewarren , on my side.
” Wong also pointed to the fact that Biden , since wrapping up the nomination , has shifted toward Warren on a number of policy issues , including bankruptcy reform .
“ I think that was super important to her , and he moved on it , ” Wong said .
Whatever the circumstances @ @ @ @ @ @ @ endorsement , her video reminded me of the arguments that a number of commentators have made recently for Biden choosing her as his running mate .
As with any veep pick , going with Warren would involve risks and trade-offs , the most obvious of which is that she comes from a part of the country that Biden is virtually sure to carry anyway .
But Warren is a national figure rather than a regional one .
And , as such , she would bring a number of big advantages to the ticket @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , a Democratic strategist and New York magazine columnist , has emphasized , is that it would help unify Democrats going into the fall .
To be sure , the mere presence of Trump on the ballot is already serving as a powerful centripetal force .
But the fact remains that the Democratic Party today is a fractious coalition , and much of its progressive wing , which plays a key role in mobilizing support at the local level , has little enthusiasm for Biden .
In an interview with Politico on Wednesday @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Sanders during the primary , called on Biden to choose a more progressive running mate who “ he knows may push him.
” Picking Warren would address this issue , and it would also send a powerful message to the broader American public that , in trying to save the country from Trump , Democrats are willing to overcome their internal rivalries .
“ Biden-Warren would be an emergency-leadership ticket for perilous times , ” Kilgore noted .
It would also elevate a female politician—Biden said last month that he intends to pick @ @ @ @ @ @ @ debates , was consistently the most impressive performer .
From early on in the process , Warren ’ s extensive platform , together with her obvious command of the issues , enabled her largely to dictate the terms of the policy discussion .
But she also displayed her toughness and killer instinct .
Who could forget the debate in Nevada , on February 20th , when she eviscerated Mike Bloomberg ?
Warren “ would be an effective ‘ attack dog ’ if needed in the fall , ” Mark Green , the veteran @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a Nation article , in which he also argued that Warren had the temperament and experience to “ help Biden win and govern.
” Certainly , Warren would be more than able to handle Mike Pence in the Vice-Presidential debate .
But Biden could also use her help as he addresses a more immediate challenge that is dominating the news : the policy response to the coronavirus crisis , including the large-scale corporate bailouts that are now being rolled out by Trump .
During her time as a politician , Warren has demonstrated @ @ @ @ @ @ @ large corporations , big banks , and other powerful financial interests .
If Biden had her alongside him , he would instantly become “ a power player in the immensely significant decisions that are going to be made in Washington in the coming weeks and months , ” Paul Glastris , the editor of The Washington Monthly , wrote a few weeks ago .
At the time , Warren had just issued a strict set of conditions to be applied to any bailouts—conditions that other Democrats quickly picked up on .
“ By @ @ @ @ @ @ @ can put himself in the center of that action and start pushing Trump around on the single biggest issue facing the nation , ” Glastris noted .
Subsequent proposed bailouts for airlines and other business sectors , the details of which remain pretty murky , has only strengthened his point .
Of course , Biden , as he mulls over his choice , has plenty of other talented female politicians to consider .
Among those that have been mentioned are Senator Kamala Harris , of California ; Senator Amy Klobuchar , of Minnesota @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ; Senator Catherine Cortez Masto , of Nevada ; Governor Gretchen Whitmer , of Michigan ; and the former Georgia gubernatorial candidate Stacey Abrams .
Substantive arguments can be made for all of these individuals , and no one would envy Biden ’ s task of reaching a determination .
But , on any list of candidates , Warren ’ s name should surely be very close to the top .

Senator Elizabeth Warren’s endorsement of Joe Biden for President, which came on Wednesday morning, had little of the Sturm und Drang of the endorsement, two days prior, from Bernie Sanders. It also lacked the fanfare that accompanied Barack Obama’s lengthy salutation to Biden on Tuesday. But, in some ways, the home video that Warren posted on Twitter was the most effective of the three endorsements.
When Sanders appeared in a live-stream conversation with Biden, it looked like the digital-age equivalent of a battlefield armistice: two old warriors agreeing to unite against a common foe. Obama’s twelve-minute video seemed to be almost as much about the former President reëntering the political stage as it was about Biden. By contrast, Warren’s message was relatively brief—her video lasted about two and a half minutes—and it focussed primarily on Biden as a person.
After mentioning the former Vice-President’s middle-class roots and his long career as a public servant, Warren brought up the personal tragedies that he has endured and said, “These experiences animate the empathy he extends to Americans who are struggling, no matter what their story. Empathy matters.” Then she went on to the crux of the matter for virtually all Democrats: the overwhelming need to defeat Donald Trump. In this moment of crisis, Warren said, it is essential “that the next President restores Americans’ faith in good, effective government. . . . We can’t afford to let Donald Trump continue to endanger the lives and livelihoods of every American. And that’s why I’m proud to endorse Joe Biden as President of the United States.”
Given Warren’s rocky history with Biden, which dates back to a 2005 bankruptcy bill that he supported and she vehemently opposed, she could have left things there. (That was pretty much what Sanders did.) Or she could have followed Obama’s example and talked about the future of the Democratic Party. Instead, she went on to recall how, after the Boston Marathon bombing, in 2013, Biden spoke movingly at a memorial service in that city. She also spoke about him swearing her in as a U.S. senator, in 2013, when he jokingly referred to the hell she had given him about the bankruptcy bill but also told her that she would do a great job. “Because that’s the thing about Joe: he wants you in the fight,” she said. “And, when you are in a fight with Joe at your side, you know you have a partner who is committed to getting something good done for this country. Joe Biden is a selfless public servant. He is committed to the fight for social, racial, and economic justice. . . . And now it’s up to all of us to make Joe Biden the next President of the United States.”
How to explain such a warm and fulsome endorsement? Despite their political differences, Warren and Biden have a personal connection based on the fact that “they are both politicians and fighters,” Felicia Wong, the president and C.E.O. of the Roosevelt Institute, an economic-policy think tank that has close ties to Warren, told me on Wednesday afternoon. And, indeed, Biden, in a tweet hailing Warren’s endorsement, said “I’m proud to have the fiercest of fighters, Senator @ewarren, on my side.” Wong also pointed to the fact that Biden, since wrapping up the nomination, has shifted toward Warren on a number of policy issues, including bankruptcy reform. “I think that was super important to her, and he moved on it,” Wong said.
Whatever the circumstances were that led to Warren’s endorsement, her video reminded me of the arguments that a number of commentators have made recently for Biden choosing her as his running mate. As with any veep pick, going with Warren would involve risks and trade-offs, the most obvious of which is that she comes from a part of the country that Biden is virtually sure to carry anyway. But Warren is a national figure rather than a regional one. And, as such, she would bring a number of big advantages to the ticket.
The first, which Ed Kilgore, a Democratic strategist and New York magazine columnist, has emphasized, is that it would help unify Democrats going into the fall. To be sure, the mere presence of Trump on the ballot is already serving as a powerful centripetal force. But the fact remains that the Democratic Party today is a fractious coalition, and much of its progressive wing, which plays a key role in mobilizing support at the local level, has little enthusiasm for Biden. In an interview with Politico on Wednesday, Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, who supported Sanders during the primary, called on Biden to choose a more progressive running mate who “he knows may push him.” Picking Warren would address this issue, and it would also send a powerful message to the broader American public that, in trying to save the country from Trump, Democrats are willing to overcome their internal rivalries. “Biden-Warren would be an emergency-leadership ticket for perilous times,” Kilgore noted.
It would also elevate a female politician—Biden said last month that he intends to pick a woman—who, during the Democratic primary debates, was consistently the most impressive performer. From early on in the process, Warren’s extensive platform, together with her obvious command of the issues, enabled her largely to dictate the terms of the policy discussion. But she also displayed her toughness and killer instinct. Who could forget the debate in Nevada, on February 20th, when she eviscerated Mike Bloomberg? Warren “would be an effective ‘attack dog’ if needed in the fall,” Mark Green, the veteran New York progressive, pointed out in a Nation article, in which he also argued that Warren had the temperament and experience to “help Biden win and govern.”
Certainly, Warren would be more than able to handle Mike Pence in a Vice-Presidential debate. But Biden could also use her help as he addresses a more immediate challenge that is dominating the news: the policy response to the coronavirus crisis, including the large-scale corporate bailouts that Trump is rolling out. During her time as a politician, Warren has demonstrated a rare ability and eagerness to confront large corporations, big banks, and other powerful financial interests. If Biden had her alongside him, he would instantly become “a power player in the immensely significant decisions that are going to be made in Washington in the coming weeks and months,” Paul Glastris, the editor of The Washington Monthly, wrote a few weeks ago. At the time, Warren had just issued a strict set of conditions to be applied to any bailouts—conditions that other Democrats quickly picked up on. “By choosing Warren as his VP, Biden can put himself in the center of that action and start pushing Trump around on the single biggest issue facing the nation,” Glastris noted. Subsequent proposed bailouts for airlines and other business sectors, the details of which remain pretty murky, have only strengthened his point.
Of course, Biden, as he mulls over his choice, has plenty of other talented female politicians to consider. Among those who have been mentioned are Senator Kamala Harris, of California; Senator Amy Klobuchar, of Minnesota; Senator Tammy Baldwin, of Wisconsin; Senator Catherine Cortez Masto, of Nevada; Governor Gretchen Whitmer, of Michigan; and the former Georgia gubernatorial candidate Stacey Abrams. Substantive arguments can be made for all of these individuals, and no one would envy Biden’s task of reaching a determination. But, on any list of candidates, Warren’s name should surely be very close to the top.


newyorker--2020-04-15--Trump Defends Decision to Sign Stimulus Checks: “I Want My Name to Be Synonymous With the Coronaviru

Trump Defends Decision to Sign Stimulus Checks: “I Want My Name to Be Synonymous With the Coronavirus”

WASHINGTON ( The Borowitz Report ) —Donald J. Trump vehemently defended his decision to have his name printed on millions @ @ @ @ @ issued to the American people , telling reporters on Wednesday , “ I want my @ @ @ @ @ the coronavirus.
” Lashing out at critics of his decision , Trump said , “ @ @ @ @ @ this pandemic day in , day out , and I deserve total credit for it.
@ @ @ @ @ by putting his name on the checks , “ Whenever the American people hear about @ @ @ @ @ thing they ’ ll think of is me.
” Asked about Trump ’ s decision @ @ @ @ @ Dr. Anthony Fauci said , “ I don ’ t think it was really necessary @ @ @ @ @ associate the coronavirus with him.
” Former President Barack Obama said that he was “ @ @ @ @ @ s statement , remarking , “ I had no idea that he knew what the @ @ @ @ @ .
”

WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—Donald J. Trump vehemently defended his decision to have his name printed on millions of I.R.S. checks being issued to the American people, telling reporters on Wednesday, “I want my name to be synonymous with the coronavirus.”
Lashing out at critics of his decision, Trump said, “I have been working on this pandemic day in, day out, and I deserve total credit for it.”
He said that, by putting his name on the checks, “Whenever the American people hear about the coronavirus, the first thing they’ll think of is me.”
Asked about Trump’s decision to sign the checks, Dr. Anthony Fauci said, “I don’t think it was really necessary, since most people already associate the coronavirus with him.”
Former President Barack Obama said that he was “surprised” by Trump’s statement, remarking, “I had no idea that he knew what the word ‘synonymous’ meant.”


newyorker--2020-04-15--The Coronavirus Pandemic Peaks in New York’s Hospitals

Near the end of March , Benny Mathew , a forty-three-year-old E.R .
nurse at Montefiore Medical Center , in the Bronx , spent a week at home , sick with COVID-19 .
He had a relatively mild case of the virus : body aches that felt “ like a truck ran over me , ” splitting headaches , throat discomfort , and , for a few nights , shortness of breath .
He did his best to self-quarantine , locking himself in a bedroom a few feet away from his wife and young daughters .
On the sixth day @ @ @ @ @ @ @ almost normal.
” He was tired , and likely still carrying the virus , but he no longer had a fever .
Four days later , he was cleared for work .
He was one of about thirty nurses who were out sick with the virus , out of a hundred and twenty in the E.R .
“ As long as you can move your hands , they want you back , ” he said .
He returned , the night of April 1st , to a hospital transformed .
“ It looked @ @ @ @ @ @ @ zone , ” he said .
Every patient seemed to have COVID-19 .
Stretchers were lined up along the walls , sometimes two rows deep , with patients who were in dire condition .
“ I ’ ve never seen so many patients looking so sick , ” he said .
Most needed an oxygen tank to breathe .
Several were on ventilators .
The hospital staff seemed frightened and exhausted , too .
“ We were intubating people left and right , ” he said .
A patient was going into cardiac @ @ @ @ @ @ @ C.P.R .
Taking in the scene , Mathew said , “ I was kind of rethinking my career choice.
” As of Tuesday , 10,834 New Yorkers had died of the coronavirus .
The rate of hospitalizations in the city had finally slowed , although no one could say for sure whether it had rounded a peak or merely slid into a plateau .
But some things were clear .
The medical workers I spoke with agreed that by the first week of April , the pace had shifted .
In March , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ been full of the “ worried well , ” people with mild or moderate COVID-19 symptoms who wanted to see a doctor or get a test .
This month , an E.R .
doctor in Queens told me , “ There have been fewer people coming in per hour , but the E.R .
is overflowing because people are much sicker .
They ’ re on stretchers in hallways waiting for beds .
No one can come out.
” Steven McDonald , an emergency-room doctor at a hospital affiliated with Columbia University , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ would previously have admitted , in order to conserve hospital beds .
“ I used to tell people , ‘ Come back if you have trouble breathing or if your abdominal pain gets worse , ’ ” he said .
“ Now my return precautions are , ‘ Come back if you ’ re so short of breath that you can ’ t finish a sentence .
Or you ’ re coughing up more than a tablespoon of blood.
’ ” Everyone seemed to have the virus : the heart-attack and stroke patients @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ I had a patient come in with a really bad case of the hiccups , ” Daniel Lepp , an E.R .
doctor at BronxCare , said .
“ I was like , ‘ Wow .
Maybe we finally have a case that ’ s not COVID-19 !
’ ” The man turned out to be in diabetic ketoacidosis , brought on by the virus .
“ We get the chest X-ray and blood work back from the labs , and it ’ s consistent with COVID-19.
” Doctors and nurses spoke @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a COVID-19 patient starts to rapidly deteriorate , without warning , leading to organ failure and sometimes death .
Lepp described his job as a scary game of whack-a-mole .
“ Imagine that you are treating fifteen to twenty patients with COVID in the E.R.
, all with varying degrees of illness .
You know that a bunch of them are going to deteriorate over the course of a twelve-hour shift .
You ’ re trying to predict who those patients will be.
” To some extent , the common wisdom held up @ @ @ @ @ @ @ particularly at risk .
“ But plenty of young , healthy people deteriorate , too , ” he said .
To cope , the hospitals had reorganized .
“ We ’ ve become nearly one-hundred-per-cent COVID care , with a small offshoot of surgical and stroke , ” the E.R .
doctor in Queens told me .
Emergency and I.C.U .
rooms teemed with “ redeployed ” dermatologists , ophthalmologists , and neurologists .
“ It ’ s been cool getting to know them , ” the doctor added .
“ Although I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ time there is over the masks.
” Nicholas Morrissey , a vascular surgeon at Columbia University Medical Center , had been working as a critical-care physician in his former operating rooms , which had been converted into I.C.U .
rooms for COVID-19 patients , labelled according to the NATO alphabet : Alpha , Bravo , Charlie .
Morrissey said , of the military lingo , “ it reminds me of my time in the Army Reserves.
” He reflected on the war metaphor , which is everywhere these days .
“ It helps @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is .
But ‘ war ’ isn ’ t quite right when you ’ re talking about a virus ” —an unseen , unkillable enemy .
“ It ’ s more like a mission.
” He was about to do a shift on what Columbia doctors were calling the “ SWAT team ” : a roving group of surgeons who performed delicate procedures on critically ill COVID-19 patients , such as inserting catheters .
“ It ’ s a pretty busy twelve-hour shift , from what I ’ m told , ” he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ gear had eased a bit .
At Montefiore , Mathew told me that E.R .
workers had been upgraded from one N95 mask every two or three days .
“ Now we ’ re lucky enough to get one mask per day , ” he said and laughed , recalling the pre-COVID-19 protocol .
“ If I had done the same thing in the past—used a dirty mask for multiple patients—that would have been grounds for some disciplinary action , or termination.
” Now there were rumors of looming shortages of the drugs @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sedate intubated patients .
The E.R .
doctor in Queens told me , “ If zero hospitals temporarily run out of propofol , I ’ ll eat my hat.
” Some worst-case scenarios had not come to pass : no one I spoke with had heard of a patient dying because of a shortage of ventilators .
But , as an E.R .
doctor in the Bronx told me , “ wartime ethics ” were in effect .
Staffers paused to put on protective gear before entering a COVID-19-positive area , even if @ @ @ @ @ @ @ There wasn ’ t enough time to do the little things : changing bedpans , bringing the patients water , checking to make sure the beds ’ safety rails were in place .
“ It ’ s too bad , because these patients are terrified—there might be a person in cardiac arrest or even a dead body twelve inches away from them—and it ’ s those little gestures that would make them feel cared for and lessen the fear , ” he said .
The E.R .
doctor in Queens told me that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” in end-of-life conversations with elderly patients or those with comorbidities and their families .
“ We ’ ll say to the family , on the phone , ‘ Look , I don ’ t want to sugarcoat it .
If he gets the breathing tube , he ’ ll be in the I.C.U .
for two weeks and the chances of recovery are extremely slim.
’ ” As a result , walking around the E.R.
, “ Most of the older people have ‘ D.N.R./D.N.I.
’ ” —do not resuscitate , do @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of paper that ’ s taped to their bed.
” He added , gloomily , “ So there ’ s that .
”

Near the end of March, Benny Mathew, a forty-three-year-old E.R. nurse at Montefiore Medical Center, in the Bronx, spent a week at home, sick with COVID-19. He had a relatively mild case of the virus: body aches that felt “like a truck ran over me,” splitting headaches, throat discomfort, and, for a few nights, shortness of breath. He did his best to self-quarantine, locking himself in a bedroom a few feet away from his wife and young daughters. On the sixth day, he said, “I felt almost normal.” He was tired, and likely still carrying the virus, but he no longer had a fever. Four days later, he was cleared for work. He was one of about thirty nurses who were out sick with the virus, out of a hundred and twenty in the E.R. “As long as you can move your hands, they want you back,” he said.
He returned, the night of April 1st, to a hospital transformed. “It looked like a refugee camp in a war zone,” he said. Every patient seemed to have COVID-19. Stretchers were lined up along the walls, sometimes two rows deep, with patients who were in dire condition. “I’ve never seen so many patients looking so sick,” he said. Most needed an oxygen tank to breathe. Several were on ventilators. The hospital staff seemed frightened and exhausted, too. “We were intubating people left and right,” he said. A patient was going into cardiac arrest, and hospital staff were administering C.P.R. Taking in the scene, Mathew said, “I was kind of rethinking my career choice.”
As of Tuesday, 10,834 New Yorkers had died of the coronavirus. The rate of hospitalizations in the city had finally slowed, although no one could say for sure whether it had rounded a peak or merely slid into a plateau. But some things were clear. The medical workers I spoke with agreed that by the first week of April, the pace had shifted. In March, the city’s emergency rooms had been full of the “worried well,” people with mild or moderate COVID-19 symptoms who wanted to see a doctor or get a test. This month, an E.R. doctor in Queens told me, “There have been fewer people coming in per hour, but the E.R. is overflowing because people are much sicker. They’re on stretchers in hallways waiting for beds. No one can come out.” Steven McDonald, an emergency-room doctor at a hospital affiliated with Columbia University, said he was sending home patients he would previously have admitted, in order to conserve hospital beds. “I used to tell people, ‘Come back if you have trouble breathing or if your abdominal pain gets worse,’ ” he said. “Now my return precautions are, ‘Come back if you’re so short of breath that you can’t finish a sentence. Or you’re coughing up more than a tablespoon of blood.’ ” Everyone seemed to have the virus: the heart-attack and stroke patients, the people in alcohol withdrawal. “I had a patient come in with a really bad case of the hiccups,” Daniel Lepp, an E.R. doctor at BronxCare, said. “I was like, ‘Wow. Maybe we finally have a case that’s not COVID-19!’ ” The man turned out to be in diabetic ketoacidosis, brought on by the virus. “We get the chest X-ray and blood work back from the labs, and it’s consistent with COVID-19.”
Doctors and nurses spoke darkly about “the crash”—when a COVID-19 patient starts to rapidly deteriorate, without warning, leading to organ failure and sometimes death. Lepp described his job as a scary game of whack-a-mole. “Imagine that you are treating fifteen to twenty patients with COVID in the E.R., all with varying degrees of illness. You know that a bunch of them are going to deteriorate over the course of a twelve-hour shift. You’re trying to predict who those patients will be.” To some extent, the common wisdom held up: the elderly and the immunocompromised were particularly at risk. “But plenty of young, healthy people deteriorate, too,” he said.
To cope, the hospitals had reorganized. “We’ve become nearly one-hundred-per-cent COVID care, with a small offshoot of surgical and stroke,” the E.R. doctor in Queens told me. Emergency and I.C.U. rooms teemed with “redeployed” dermatologists, ophthalmologists, and neurologists. “It’s been cool getting to know them,” the doctor added. “Although I don’t know how much social time there is over the masks.” Nicholas Morrissey, a vascular surgeon at Columbia University Medical Center, had been working as a critical-care physician in his former operating rooms, which had been converted into I.C.U. rooms for COVID-19 patients, labelled according to the NATO alphabet: Alpha, Bravo, Charlie. Morrissey said, of the military lingo, “it reminds me of my time in the Army Reserves.” He reflected on the war metaphor, which is everywhere these days. “It helps to frame this event for what it is. But ‘war’ isn’t quite right when you’re talking about a virus”—an unseen, unkillable enemy. “It’s more like a mission.” He was about to do a shift on what Columbia doctors were calling the “SWAT team”: a roving group of surgeons who performed delicate procedures on critically ill COVID-19 patients, such as inserting catheters. “It’s a pretty busy twelve-hour shift, from what I’m told,” he said.
The anxiety around personal protective gear had eased a bit. At Montefiore, Mathew told me that E.R. workers had been upgraded from one N95 mask every two or three days. “Now we’re lucky enough to get one mask per day,” he said and laughed, recalling the pre-COVID-19 protocol. “If I had done the same thing in the past—used a dirty mask for multiple patients—that would have been grounds for some disciplinary action, or termination.” Now there were rumors of looming shortages of the drugs, such as fentanyl, required to sedate intubated patients. The E.R. doctor in Queens told me, “If zero hospitals temporarily run out of propofol, I’ll eat my hat.”
Some worst-case scenarios had not come to pass: no one I spoke with had heard of a patient dying because of a shortage of ventilators. But, as an E.R. doctor in the Bronx told me, “wartime ethics” were in effect. Staffers paused to put on protective gear before entering a COVID-19-positive area, even if a patient was in cardiac arrest. There wasn’t enough time to do the little things: changing bedpans, bringing the patients water, checking to make sure the beds’ safety rails were in place. “It’s too bad, because these patients are terrified—there might be a person in cardiac arrest or even a dead body twelve inches away from them—and it’s those little gestures that would make them feel cared for and lessen the fear,” he said. The E.R. doctor in Queens told me that hospital staff had become “more assertive” in end-of-life conversations with elderly patients or those with comorbidities and their families. “We’ll say to the family, on the phone, ‘Look, I don’t want to sugarcoat it. If he gets the breathing tube, he’ll be in the I.C.U. for two weeks and the chances of recovery are extremely slim.’ ” As a result, walking around the E.R., “Most of the older people have ‘D.N.R./D.N.I.’ ”—do not resuscitate, do not intubate—“scrawled on a piece of paper that’s taped to their bed.” He added, gloomily, “So there’s that.”
Many of the staffers remarked on one of the cruellest features of the virus: the way it separates people from one another, forcing sick patients to suffer alone, and, when they die, denying their families the chance to see them one last time, or to come together to grieve. An internal-medicine doctor recalled trying to comfort the husband of a deceased patient over the phone. “He was having a really hard time. He was an older man, he was at home alone, and he didn’t have any family with him.” He said the disease reminded him of an experience volunteering in East-Central Africa: “This happened with Ebola. The family is kept away. There are no funerals. This feels like that.”


newyorker--2020-04-15--How the Russian-Saudi Oil War Went Awry—for Putin Most of All

It appears that the latest in the many seemingly immutable systems that the COVID-19 pandemic has undone is global oil markets , and how the world ’ s largest energy producers measure their own power and profits .
On Sunday , after a month-long oil war that saw prices cut in half , the conflict ’ s two main protagonists—Russia and Saudi Arabia—reached a supposed truce , in which oil-producing nations will cut output by nearly ten million barrels a day .
President Trump presented himself as peacemaker and made vague notions that the United States would decrease its oil @ @ @ @ @ @ @ oil pact , forged with unprecedented U.S. involvement , would seem to be a new form of energy diplomacy with potentially deep implications , at a time when the global economy is facing great turbulence and a likely recession .
But the truth is that the deal may prove little more than a short-term measure—and Russia , the country that , more than any other , provoked the standoff , may end up looking like a gambler who greatly overplayed his hand .
The world looked very different just a month and a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ each decided that it had an advantage over the other , with political leaders in both capitals calculating that they , and not their rivals , were better equipped to weather the financial pain of a price war .
The two countries had reached loggerheads over future production cuts as part of the OPEC+ grouping , created in 2016 , which saw Russia and a handful of other oil producers—but not the United States—join existing cartel members .
The logic was based on simple market economics : producers would agree to limit supply @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
The arrangement initially worked , in part—oil prices rose from a low of twenty-seven dollars a barrel in 2016 to more than sixty by the end of 2019—but was less than perfect .
For reasons of climate and geology , Russia ’ s oil wells are less flexible than Saudi ones : they can ’ t simply be turned off today and then back on again tomorrow .
Decreasing output in Russia would risk damaging wells and losing some fields for years , if not forever .
That meant Russian oil companies @ @ @ @ @ @ @ country ’ s officials had nominally promised .
Mikhail Krutikhin , a partner at RusEnergy , a consultancy in Moscow , told me of his conversations with Russian oil engineers .
“ How do you manage to do what OPEC+ requires ?
” he recalled asking them .
“ We keep on drilling wells , and pretend we aren ’ t , ” they replied , laughing .
Many leaders in Moscow—especially Igor Sechin , a longtime Putin confidant and head of Rosneft , the state oil giant—were opposed to any cuts at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the logic went , by agreeing to limit the amount of oil it pumps , Russia was depriving itself of potential revenue ; while , as a result , high prices made the drilling of shale oil in the United States economically feasible , and U.S. shale producers , unbound by OPEC+ , could pump as much as they wanted .
Sechin also had personal reasons for making such an argument : he wanted Rosneft to develop ambitious and expensive new oil fields in the Arctic , but , as long as the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ those projects were impossible .
Unfair or not , OPEC+ was at first profitable for Russia : in the course of three years , the agreed-upon production cuts brought Russia an additional hundred and twenty billion dollars in hydrocarbon revenue .
But , as demand for oil began to fall early this year , taking prices down with it , the winking understanding that undergirded the arrangement was superseded by clear-eyed economics .
In early March , Saudi Arabia demanded that OPEC+ members make further cuts of a million and a half barrels @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the crown prince , Mohammed bin Salman , and other powerful figures in the Saudi energy industry were less inclined to close their eyes to Russia ’ s spotty adherence to collective reductions .
While both sides would later accuse each other of brinksmanship , the standoff was set : either Russia agrees to a new round of cuts , or OPEC+ falls apart , with its members pumping as much oil as they want .
By that point , the effect of COVID-19 in China was already putting pressure on supply chains @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Kremlin , limiting production to try and keep prices up looked like a pointless , or at least ineffectual , pursuit .
“ We can not fight a falling demand situation when there is no clarity about where the bottom is , ” Pavel Sorokin , Russia ’ s deputy energy minister , told Reuters .
Sechin picked the right moment to make his argument again to Putin , bringing him a personal letter—a copy of which was obtained by Reuters—in which he argued that the OPEC+ deal gave a “ preferential @ @ @ @ @ @ @ thus posed a “ strategic threat ” to Russia .
Sechin reportedly also told Putin that Russia needed to strike at the U.S. shale industry and the Saudi budget “ at the most painful moment ” —that is , at a time of already softening demand for oil .
The final straw may have been the clash of personalities between Mohammed bin Salman , known for his boldness—or , rather , recklessness—and Putin , who , more than anything , hates being put into a corner .
“ Putin does not tolerate the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Milov , who formerly served as Russia ’ s deputy energy minister , and is now an opposition politician close to Alexey Navalny , the country ’ s main anti-Putin leader .
“ As I imagine it playing out , the Saudis tried to pressure us , and Putin told them to go to hell.
” On March 6th , at a meeting in Vienna , Saudi and Russian representatives failed to reach an agreement .
“ The negotiations ended , everyone slammed the doors shut behind them , ” Fyodor Lukyanov , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and a well-connected figure in Moscow foreign-policy circles , told me .
Saudi Arabia responded not merely by producing oil at pre-OPEC+ levels but also dumping two million barrels of additional oil , priced at a steep discount .
Oil prices fell thirty per cent in a day ; the ruble lost ten per cent of its value compared to the dollar .
Still , the prevailing attitude in Moscow in the early days of March was that Saudi Arabia would have to fold first .
“ Things will be bad for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to hold on , ” Lukyanov said , paraphrasing the mood .
The confidence hinged on the price of oil at which each country ’ s national budget is balanced .
For Russia , that number is forty to forty-five dollars a barrel ; for Saudi Arabia , it is eighty to eighty-five .
Missing in that calculation , however , is that the high Saudi figure is based on ambitious and costly projects like the Saudi Vision 2030 initiative , whereas the Russian number is what the state indeed needs to function @ @ @ @ @ @ @ could limit or even cancel its excess spending and still be relatively fine .
At the same time , the notion that low prices would kill off U.S. shale producers was shaky .
In general , extracting shale oil is profitable at prices of about fifty dollars a barrel .
But , unlike bloated , state-owned giants like Rosneft , U.S. shale involves myriad companies , and the ones that don ’ t go bust are able to minimize or even shut down production for a while , then ramp it up again @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
The Putin-Sechin bet was that Russia could take on Saudi Arabia and the U.S. oil industry , outlasting each with a combination of resources—Russia has amassed more than five hundred and sixty billion dollars in sovereign reserve funds—as well as fortitude , and plain-old chutzpah .

It appears that the latest in the many seemingly immutable systems that the COVID-19 pandemic has undone is global oil markets, and how the world’s largest energy producers measure their own power and profits. On Sunday, after a month-long oil war that saw prices cut in half, the conflict’s two main protagonists—Russia and Saudi Arabia—reached a supposed truce, in which oil-producing nations will cut output by nearly ten million barrels a day. President Trump presented himself as peacemaker and made vague notions that the United States would decrease its oil production, too.
This new multilateral oil pact, forged with unprecedented U.S. involvement, would seem to be a new form of energy diplomacy with potentially deep implications, at a time when the global economy is facing great turbulence and a likely recession. But the truth is that the deal may prove little more than a short-term measure—and Russia, the country that, more than any other, provoked the standoff, may end up looking like a gambler who greatly overplayed his hand.
The world looked very different just a month and a half ago, when Moscow and Riyadh each decided that it had an advantage over the other, with political leaders in both capitals calculating that they, and not their rivals, were better equipped to weather the financial pain of a price war. The two countries had reached loggerheads over future production cuts as part of the OPEC+ grouping, created in 2016, which saw Russia and a handful of other oil producers—but not the United States—join existing cartel members. The logic was based on simple market economics: producers would agree to limit supply in an effort to keep prices up.
The arrangement initially worked, in part—oil prices rose from a low of twenty-seven dollars a barrel in 2016 to more than sixty by the end of 2019—but was less than perfect. For reasons of climate and geology, Russia’s oil wells are less flexible than Saudi ones: they can’t simply be turned off today and then back on again tomorrow. Decreasing output in Russia would risk damaging wells and losing some fields for years, if not forever. That meant Russian oil companies kept on pumping far more than the country’s officials had nominally promised. Mikhail Krutikhin, a partner at RusEnergy, a consultancy in Moscow, told me of his conversations with Russian oil engineers. “How do you manage to do what OPEC+ requires?” he recalled asking them. “We keep on drilling wells, and pretend we aren’t,” they replied, laughing.
Many leaders in Moscow—especially Igor Sechin, a longtime Putin confidant and head of Rosneft, the state oil giant—were opposed to any cuts at all within the OPEC+ framework. As the logic went, by agreeing to limit the amount of oil it pumps, Russia was depriving itself of potential revenue; while, as a result, high prices made the drilling of shale oil in the United States economically feasible, and U.S. shale producers, unbound by OPEC+, could pump as much as they wanted. Sechin also had personal reasons for making such an argument: he wanted Rosneft to develop ambitious and expensive new oil fields in the Arctic, but, as long as the company was limited by OPEC+ rules, those projects were impossible.
Unfair or not, OPEC+ was at first profitable for Russia: in the course of three years, the agreed-upon production cuts brought Russia an additional hundred and twenty billion dollars in hydrocarbon revenue. But, as demand for oil began to fall early this year, taking prices down with it, the winking understanding that undergirded the arrangement was superseded by clear-eyed economics. In early March, Saudi Arabia demanded that OPEC+ members make further cuts of a million and a half barrels a day. With prices falling, the crown prince, Mohammed bin Salman, and other powerful figures in the Saudi energy industry were less inclined to close their eyes to Russia’s spotty adherence to collective reductions. While both sides would later accuse each other of brinksmanship, the standoff was set: either Russia agrees to a new round of cuts, or OPEC+ falls apart, with its members pumping as much oil as they want.
By that point, the effect of COVID-19 in China was already putting pressure on supply chains and decreasing global economic output. To the Kremlin, limiting production to try and keep prices up looked like a pointless, or at least ineffectual, pursuit. “We cannot fight a falling demand situation when there is no clarity about where the bottom is,” Pavel Sorokin, Russia’s deputy energy minister, told Reuters. Sechin picked the right moment to make his argument again to Putin, bringing him a personal letter—a copy of which was obtained by Reuters—in which he argued that the OPEC+ deal gave a “preferential advantage” to the United States and thus posed a “strategic threat” to Russia. Sechin reportedly also told Putin that Russia needed to strike at the U.S. shale industry and the Saudi budget “at the most painful moment”—that is, at a time of already softening demand for oil.
The final straw may have been the clash of personalities between Mohammed bin Salman, known for his boldness—or, rather, recklessness—and Putin, who, more than anything, hates being put into a corner. “Putin does not tolerate the language of ultimatums,” said Vladimir Milov, who formerly served as Russia’s deputy energy minister, and is now an opposition politician close to Alexey Navalny, the country’s main anti-Putin leader. “As I imagine it playing out, the Saudis tried to pressure us, and Putin told them to go to hell.”
On March 6th, at a meeting in Vienna, Saudi and Russian representatives failed to reach an agreement. “The negotiations ended, everyone slammed the doors shut behind them,” Fyodor Lukyanov, the editor of Russia in Global Affairs, and a well-connected figure in Moscow foreign-policy circles, told me. Saudi Arabia responded not merely by producing oil at pre-OPEC+ levels but also dumping two million barrels of additional oil, priced at a steep discount. Oil prices fell thirty per cent in a day; the ruble lost ten per cent of its value compared to the dollar. Still, the prevailing attitude in Moscow in the early days of March was that Saudi Arabia would have to fold first. “Things will be bad for them, but we’ll manage to hold on,” Lukyanov said, paraphrasing the mood.
The confidence hinged on the price of oil at which each country’s national budget is balanced. For Russia, that number is forty to forty-five dollars a barrel; for Saudi Arabia, it is eighty to eighty-five. Missing in that calculation, however, is that the high Saudi figure is based on ambitious and costly projects like the Saudi Vision 2030 initiative, whereas the Russian number is what the state indeed needs to function without deficits. If necessary, Riyadh could limit or even cancel its excess spending and still be relatively fine.
At the same time, the notion that low prices would kill off U.S. shale producers was shaky. In general, extracting shale oil is profitable at prices of about fifty dollars a barrel. But, unlike bloated, state-owned giants like Rosneft, U.S. shale involves myriad companies, and the ones that don’t go bust are able to minimize or even shut down production for a while, then ramp it up again later, if and when prices rise. The Putin-Sechin bet was that Russia could take on Saudi Arabia and the U.S. oil industry, outlasting each with a combination of resources—Russia has amassed more than five hundred and sixty billion dollars in sovereign reserve funds—as well as fortitude, and plain-old chutzpah.


newyorker--2020-04-15--“It’s Hard to Stay Afloat”: Hope and Exhaustion in the Coronavirus Fight

A woman and her husband are admitted to my ward ; before the coronavirus , they were healthy , enjoying morning walks and evening cocktails .
Now , while her breathing improves each day , his declines .
By the end of the week , she is pacing the room , and he is on the brink of intubation .
Other couples go together .
One evening , we transfer a woman in her eighties to hospice ; her husband of fifty years joins her the next morning .
His breathing is so labored that he can barely speak , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an oxygen mask , he tells me that he can ’ t live without her .
I can ’ t work out whether the virus was merciful or merciless in taking them both .
Why does the virus cripple some lungs and not others ?
There ’ s so much we don ’ t yet know .
At the beginning of medical school , during the “ preclinical ” years , students learn about diseases from books , not patients .
Reading about the signs and symptoms of illness , a student ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ checklist connecting presentation to diagnosis .
Fever , vomiting , and right-belly pain : appendicitis .
Sweating , chest pain , and unequal blood pressure in the arms : an aortic tear .
When students arrive in the hospital , senior physicians point out with some glee that patients are rarely textbook .
They present however they want to .
The only sign of a urinary-tract infection in an elderly patient might be fatigue .
But most COVID-19 patients are textbook , at least at first .
They report fevers , usually high @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Then a dry cough , and possibly diarrhea .
Then the inability to catch their breath , which triggers the decision to seek medical care .
The body ’ s inflammatory proteins skyrocket , while its lymphocytes plummet .
Chest X-rays show a diffuse haziness in both lungs , or , if things are really bad , a complete whiteout .
There ’ s no kidney damage initially ; the liver looks good ; blood pressure remains stable .
COVID-19 goes for the lungs .
The mystery isn ’ t how the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ In the nineteenth century , the medical profession seemed to stumble on a new disease every few years ; doctors would set about describing its symptoms , detailing its physiology , and proposing possible remedies .
Today , it ’ s rare to be in such uncharted territory .
And yet that ’ s where we find ourselves in my hospital : raising and debating new questions to which the answers are slow in coming .
Does ibuprofen really make things worse ?
Should we give steroids or statins , Z-Paks or malaria @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on ventilators , and how many should we expect to come off them alive ?
We ’ re exploring different medications and maneuvers , rapidly iterating our protocols in search of an approach that could halt the ruthless progression from infection to intubation .
It feels odd to be both appalled by the virus and curious about it .
But careful observation today may mean the difference between life and death for other patients , in other states , in the not-so-distant future .
Many New York hospitals are rapidly introducing clinical trials @ @ @ @ @ @ @ most effective ; some also collect samples—from nasal swabs , blood tests , urine , feces—that might reveal how the virus spreads among people and what it does within bodies .
Other researchers hope to aggregate data from electronic health records .
They want to figure out whether it ’ s possible to predict—using travel history , smoking status , medications , medical conditions , and other variables—who will need to be intubated and who will be able to go home .
We receive an e-mail from our department heads .
From now @ @ @ @ @ @ @ permission to conduct an autopsy on every patient who dies of COVID-19 .
A single incision in the chest should be enough : we need to know exactly how the virus is destroying the lungs .
Perhaps the most hyped medication being tried for COVID-19 is hydroxychloroquine .
Traditionally , the drug has been used to treat malaria and inflammatory conditions , such as lupus ; a recent study found that it can stop the coronavirus from infecting cells in petri dishes .
But it ’ s far from clear that the same @ @ @ @ @ @ @ studies on the question are small and have yielded mixed results , or have been too poorly designed to allow doctors to draw reliable conclusions .
( One widely cited study was the subject of a “ statement of concern ” issued by the society that publishes the journal in which it appeared ; the society ’ s president wrote that the study had failed to meet its basic research standards . )
The history of medicine is littered with theoretically effective remedies that are later found to be useless or even harmful @ @ @ @ @ @ @ medical journals are later reversed ; another sixth seem to show effects that can not be replicated .
Even randomized , controlled trials , the gold standard in clinical research , are overturned more than we ’ d like .
So the truth is that , at this point , talk about coronavirus therapies is more or less speculation .
Nevertheless , the President has tweeted that hydroxychloroquine , taken with azithromycin , has a “ chance to be one of the biggest game changers in the history of medicine.
” Patients and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ time .
Hydroxychloroquine can interfere with the heart ’ s electrical circuitry , and has harmful interactions with many commonly used medications .
Still , I prescribe it to some COVID-19 patients , not because I ’ m convinced it works but because I think it might—and there ’ s little else we can do .
I try not to put too much stock in what happens next .
Most COVID-19 patients present when their symptoms crescendo , and many go on to improve ; it ’ s nearly impossible to say whether @ @ @ @ @ @ @ along for the ride .
What ’ s clear is that , even if it does work , it ’ s far from a cure : every day , dozens of patients who take it end up on ventilators .
Because we don ’ t have coronavirus-specific remedies , we mostly treat patients ’ symptoms—fever , cough , diarrhea—with decades-old medications .
Then we keep watch .
Many patients remain stable .
They don ’ t need a ventilator—just oxygen , especially when eating , walking , or talking .
Each morning , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ few notches and tell them about their progress .
We also watch , however , as many patients decline precipitously .
We try one oxygen-delivery device after another—a nasal cannula , an oxygen mask , maybe a CPAP machine .
The body of a person who can ’ t breathe spontaneously recruits new muscles to help pull air into the lungs .
Neck muscles tense ; bellies rise and fall ; the tissue between the ribs retracts inward .
Oxygenation plummets , and lips and fingertips turn blue .
Too frequently , under @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , nurses , and respiratory therapists congregate outside a patient ’ s room .
Time to administer sedation , insert a tube , and start the ventilator .
Physicians who have worked in the same institution for decades are meeting for the first time ; everyone wants to talk about stopping the virus that ’ s stopped the world .
A friend at another New York hospital , a cardiology fellow , tells me about a chance encounter in his cardiac-care unit , which , like almost all I.C.U.s , is now a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he ’ s never met is rounding on a nearby patient ; the surgeon overhears my friend asking a question with which he ’ s also been struggling .
They spend the next half hour comparing notes : Should they use more blood thinners ?
Why do clots keep forming in patients ’ catheters ?
Who should be enrolled in a new clinical trial ?
They agree to keep in touch as the pandemic evolves .

A woman and her husband are admitted to my ward; before the coronavirus, they were healthy, enjoying morning walks and evening cocktails. Now, while her breathing improves each day, his declines. By the end of the week, she is pacing the room, and he is on the brink of intubation.
Other couples go together. One evening, we transfer a woman in her eighties to hospice; her husband of fifty years joins her the next morning. His breathing is so labored that he can barely speak, but, between gasps, from behind an oxygen mask, he tells me that he can’t live without her. I can’t work out whether the virus was merciful or merciless in taking them both.
Why does the virus cripple some lungs and not others? There’s so much we don’t yet know.
At the beginning of medical school, during the “preclinical” years, students learn about diseases from books, not patients. Reading about the signs and symptoms of illness, a student’s task is to create a mental checklist connecting presentation to diagnosis. Fever, vomiting, and right-belly pain: appendicitis. Sweating, chest pain, and unequal blood pressure in the arms: an aortic tear.
When students arrive in the hospital, senior physicians point out with some glee that patients are rarely textbook. They present however they want to. The only sign of a urinary-tract infection in an elderly patient might be fatigue.
But most COVID-19 patients are textbook, at least at first. They report fevers, usually high and persistent, lasting for many days. Then a dry cough, and possibly diarrhea. Then the inability to catch their breath, which triggers the decision to seek medical care. The body’s inflammatory proteins skyrocket, while its lymphocytes plummet. Chest X-rays show a diffuse haziness in both lungs, or, if things are really bad, a complete whiteout. There’s no kidney damage initially; the liver looks good; blood pressure remains stable. COVID-19 goes for the lungs.
The mystery isn’t how the virus presents but how it works. In the nineteenth century, the medical profession seemed to stumble on a new disease every few years; doctors would set about describing its symptoms, detailing its physiology, and proposing possible remedies. Today, it’s rare to be in such uncharted territory. And yet that’s where we find ourselves in my hospital: raising and debating new questions to which the answers are slow in coming. Does ibuprofen really make things worse? Should we give steroids or statins, Z-Paks or malaria drugs? How long will patients stay on ventilators, and how many should we expect to come off them alive? We’re exploring different medications and maneuvers, rapidly iterating our protocols in search of an approach that could halt the ruthless progression from infection to intubation.
It feels odd to be both appalled by the virus and curious about it. But careful observation today may mean the difference between life and death for other patients, in other states, in the not-so-distant future. Many New York hospitals are rapidly introducing clinical trials to investigate which drugs and protocols are most effective; some also collect samples—from nasal swabs, blood tests, urine, feces—that might reveal how the virus spreads among people and what it does within bodies. Other researchers hope to aggregate data from electronic health records. They want to figure out whether it’s possible to predict—using travel history, smoking status, medications, medical conditions, and other variables—who will need to be intubated and who will be able to go home.
We receive an e-mail from our department heads. From now on, we’re to ask permission to conduct an autopsy on every patient who dies of COVID-19. A single incision in the chest should be enough: we need to know exactly how the virus is destroying the lungs.
Perhaps the most hyped medication being tried for COVID-19 is hydroxychloroquine. Traditionally, the drug has been used to treat malaria and inflammatory conditions, such as lupus; a recent study found that it can stop the coronavirus from infecting cells in petri dishes. But it’s far from clear that the same will happen in human bodies. The studies on the question are small and have yielded mixed results, or have been too poorly designed to allow doctors to draw reliable conclusions. (One widely cited study was the subject of a “statement of concern” issued by the society that publishes the journal in which it appeared; the society’s president wrote that the study had failed to meet its basic research standards.)
The history of medicine is littered with theoretically effective remedies that are later found to be useless or even harmful. One-sixth of the studies published in medical journals are later reversed; another sixth seem to show effects that cannot be replicated. Even randomized, controlled trials, the gold standard in clinical research, are overturned more than we’d like. So the truth is that, at this point, talk about coronavirus therapies is more or less speculation. Nevertheless, the President has tweeted that hydroxychloroquine, taken with azithromycin, has a “chance to be one of the biggest game changers in the history of medicine.” Patients and families ask me about it all the time.
Hydroxychloroquine can interfere with the heart’s electrical circuitry, and has harmful interactions with many commonly used medications. Still, I prescribe it to some COVID-19 patients, not because I’m convinced it works but because I think it might—and there’s little else we can do. I try not to put too much stock in what happens next. Most COVID-19 patients present when their symptoms crescendo, and many go on to improve; it’s nearly impossible to say whether hydroxychloroquine changes their path or is simply along for the ride. What’s clear is that, even if it does work, it’s far from a cure: every day, dozens of patients who take it end up on ventilators.
Because we don’t have coronavirus-specific remedies, we mostly treat patients’ symptoms—fever, cough, diarrhea—with decades-old medications. Then we keep watch. Many patients remain stable. They don’t need a ventilator—just oxygen, especially when eating, walking, or talking. Each morning, I turn the oxygen knob down a few notches and tell them about their progress.
We also watch, however, as many patients decline precipitously. We try one oxygen-delivery device after another—a nasal cannula, an oxygen mask, maybe a CPAP machine. The body of a person who can’t breathe spontaneously recruits new muscles to help pull air into the lungs. Neck muscles tense; bellies rise and fall; the tissue between the ribs retracts inward. Oxygenation plummets, and lips and fingertips turn blue. Too frequently, under the too bright fluorescent lights, doctors, nurses, and respiratory therapists congregate outside a patient’s room. Time to administer sedation, insert a tube, and start the ventilator.
Physicians who have worked in the same institution for decades are meeting for the first time; everyone wants to talk about stopping the virus that’s stopped the world. A friend at another New York hospital, a cardiology fellow, tells me about a chance encounter in his cardiac-care unit, which, like almost all I.C.U.s, is now a coronavirus-care unit. A senior surgeon whom he’s never met is rounding on a nearby patient; the surgeon overhears my friend asking a question with which he’s also been struggling. They spend the next half hour comparing notes: Should they use more blood thinners? Why do clots keep forming in patients’ catheters? Who should be enrolled in a new clinical trial? They agree to keep in touch as the pandemic evolves.
My friend has been training to be a doctor for fourteen years. “This is by far the most stimulating time in my medical education,” he tells me. He’s a basketball fan: “At this point in the year, I’m usually refreshing ESPN and watching N.B.A. highlights.” Now, he continues, “I’m scrolling through Twitter, trying to figure out how we’re going to treat COVID tomorrow.”
The medical news swirling around COVID-19 makes the twenty-four-hour news cycle look slow. Between patient visits, I pull out my phone to scour Web sites covering the latest COVID-19-management tips. (You can, I’ve learned, use an iPhone through a pair of thin latex gloves, even when it’s covered with a specimen bag; you cannot, however, unlock it while wearing a mask on your face.) I scroll the Twitter feeds of coronavirus thought leaders, many with newly minted blue check marks. I maintain text chains with residency and medical-school friends around the country. Between GIFs and baby photos, we ask, What’s Boston doing with blood thinners? Are California I.C.U.s using steroids? In the absence of hard evidence, we pool what knowledge we have.
Like everyone else in the hospital, I have my go-to gurus—physicians with decades of experience or unusual clinical acumen. I accost them in their offices to discuss complex patients, or to make myself feel better about a hard decision I’ve made. Sometimes, the conversation makes me feel worse. But we’re always talking. At the coffee machine, someone will tell you about a case they saw, a tweet they read, an article they reviewed, a group thread that says we’re doing it all wrong. A colleague at the actual water cooler hears me mention a new report suggesting that a certain drug might help. Another points out grievous flaws in the study’s design—might as well go back to bloodletting and leeches! Soon, a half-dozen of us are debating the physiology and immunology of the coronavirus. In here, it’s all COVID-19 all the time.
Each morning, we receive an e-mail from the hospital’s leaders on the state of the crisis and our response: admissions, discharges, deaths, new protocols. One of the messages announces that it’s Day 32—four and a half weeks since our initial rise in coronavirus cases—and that, for the first time, COVID-19 discharges have exceeded admissions.
It’s a milestone—a moment to savor. In New York, a cautious optimism is budding: the curve has started to flatten, and hospitalizations seem to be slowing. And yet the I.C.U.s remain full. Patients continue to die. The virus has killed more than a hundred thousand people worldwide; the U.S. economy has cratered. A friend calls as I’m finishing my morning rounds, to ask if the good news is true. What am I seeing on the wards? Overnight, a patient of mine was intubated. Another has just died. It’s hard to stay afloat amid the flood.
One afternoon, after I learn that another colleague has fallen ill and that another of my patients is to be intubated, a volunteer physician offers to relieve me. Exhausted and grateful, I accept. I remove my bonnet, goggles, gown, shoe covers, and mask, then make my way to the lobby. In the hospital’s main hall, a “wall of hope,” covered with drawings by young children, has replaced the desolate dining area. On a small sheet, Jenni, the artist, has sketched a doctor and nurse. “We don’t know how we can pay you back,” she writes. “Well, money I guess? Any who, thank you so much for your work!”
Winter has given way to spring. The sun is shining and it feels good. I don’t have sunglasses and I don’t want any. I start to walk; the area near the hospital vibrates with activity, as doctors, nurses, and the occasional visitor arrive and leave, but soon it’s quiet. I walk on the sidewalks, and sometimes, since there’s no traffic, down the middle of the street. Nail salons, restaurants, barbershops, liquor stores—all empty, handwritten signs taped to their windows. My pace quickens. I start to jog, then to run. I can’t stop, not knowing what I’m running from or where I’m running to. I’m panting. My chest hurts. I stop and sit on the curb. Clouds are gathering overhead. I pull the mask dangling around my neck back up, to cover my face. An Uber takes me the rest of the way home.
More Medical Dispatches


newyorker--2020-04-15--Trump Says the Three Things He Hates Most Are the World, Health, and Organization

WASHINGTON ( The Borowitz Report ) —At Tuesday ’ s White House Coronavirus Task Force briefing , Donald J. Trump said that the three things he hates the most are the world , health , and organization .
“ I hate the world , and I ’ ve always hated it , ” he said .
“ The world is a horrible place because of all the horrible people in it .
Any place that has Jim Acosta in it , I hate .
The world is a disgrace.
” “ Coming in at No .
2 of things I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he said .
“ For the past two months , it ’ s all I ’ ve been hearing about , health this , health that .
I wish health would just disappear .
We ’ re trying to make that happen very strongly.
” “ Finally , I ’ ve got to say that I hate organization , ” he said .
“ Anyone who ’ s known me for any amount of time knows just how much I despise organization .
Now , all of a sudden , governors , these @ @ @ @ @ @ @ asking me to organize everything .
Well , it ’ s not gon na happen .
For years before I got here , there was organization at the White House , and no one did anything about it .
Well , now that I ’ m President , the federal government is getting out of the organization business .
”

WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—At Tuesday’s White House Coronavirus Task Force briefing, Donald J. Trump said that the three things he hates the most are the world, health, and organization.
“I hate the world, and I’ve always hated it,” he said. “The world is a horrible place because of all the horrible people in it. Any place that has Jim Acosta in it, I hate. The world is a disgrace.”
“Coming in at No. 2 of things I hate would definitely be health,” he said. “For the past two months, it’s all I’ve been hearing about, health this, health that. I wish health would just disappear. We’re trying to make that happen very strongly.”
“Finally, I’ve got to say that I hate organization,” he said. “Anyone who’s known me for any amount of time knows just how much I despise organization. Now, all of a sudden, governors, these beauties, are coming to me and asking me to organize everything. Well, it’s not gonna happen. For years before I got here, there was organization at the White House, and no one did anything about it. Well, now that I’m President, the federal government is getting out of the organization business.”


newyorker--2020-04-15--Japanese Curry Bread, a Food Fit for Quarantine

The star of kare pan—curry bread , in Japanese—is the thick , slightly smoky gravy that ’ s eaten , over rice ( or udon ! )
, all across Japan .
You can find Japanese curry in local diners and roadside stalls and train stations and national chains , to say nothing of the name-brand establishments that ’ ve made their way to the States .
But you ’ re even more likely to catch it in somebody ’ s home kitchen , made with store-bought bricks of curry , which are dissolved in stock and simmered with chicken @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The dish is the answer to anyone ’ s argument that boxed , ready-made food is inferior .
Frankly , it ’ s perfect .
Kare pan is a little like a savory jelly doughnut , with a pool of curry filling encased in a deep-fried yeasted crust .
I typically make curry bread only every few months , because of both the tricky methods involved ( making yeasted dough ; deep-frying ; it can be a fucking hassle ) and the total time it takes ( a couple of hours ) .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ my hands than I ’ ve had in years , I ’ ve leaned hard on kare pan .
In many ways , it ’ s a perfect quarantine food .
You can pick a bun up whenever the craving strikes , morning or noon or after midnight , as you ’ re pacing your kitchen , scrolling on your phone , sipping a beer and dreading our collective hellscape .
Kare pan is a dish that takes you somewhere else , somewhere better , even if only for a couple of minutes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to have been invented at the Tokyo bakery Cattlea , in 1927 , when its owner applied the very Western notion of deep-frying to his country ’ s curry .
The bakery , which is only a brisk walk from Morishita Station , still cranks out loads and loads of buns a day .
But Cattlea ’ s wasn ’ t the first curry bread I had ; that was in my old neighborhood , just outside of Houston , from an American-Chinese diner that served Japanese dishes if you knew to ask @ @ @ @ @ @ @ pan in an aluminum tray beside the register , warming under a blinking light .
The first time I had one , its flavor profile didn ’ t exactly make sense to me ; the spices in Japanese curry are generally less heat-forward than those in the Jamaican curry I ’ d grown up with .
All I knew was that it was delicious .
Since then , I ’ ve made it a point to try kare pan wherever I can find it .
At a bakery in L.A. , where I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ my rental car , next to a father who was feeding pieces of his bun to his kids and a couple of guys who were sitting on the curb beside us , tearing off pieces for the birds .
At another spot , in New York , I got lost looking for the place , walking in circles for like a fucking hour , only to wait another hour in the café , by the cash register , because something or other in the kitchen was broken .
( Yes , the wait @ @ @ @ @ @ @ years back , I had kare pan in Shimokitazawa , on a work trip to Tokyo .
There was a minor earthquake one evening , just before midnight ; I was in the shower when it struck .
( What was the point of earthquake alerts , a friend later asked me , if I wasn ’ t going to heed them ? )
I threw on clothing and stumbled outside , where the other residents of the building I was staying in were milling about , laughing and chatting and smoking .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ cart , and a line of people waiting to buy them stretched across the street .
When I got to the front of it , I ordered a bun , walked away , and took a bite .
Then I hopped right back in line .
I ordered three more , then sat cross-legged , chewing , in the road with everyone else .
Where I live now , in Houston , my kare pan comes from a Japanese market not terribly far from my apartment .
The bread is baked fresh every @ @ @ @ @ @ @ displayed by the egg sandwiches and sake , just above the red-bean buns .
Within a few hours , they ’ re usually gone , right along with the store ’ s milk bread and cheesecake .
At the moment , though , my frequent trips to that store feel like they took place a lifetime ago .
My routine has been swapped for a new one that ’ s mirrored by folks across the globe , or at least by those of us privileged enough to stay indoors : wandering back and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ room and the kitchen .
Maybe a solo sojourn outdoors , or a bike ride through barren streets .
Curry buns are warm memories of before—but they ’ re also a prophecy , if we ’ re lucky , for later .
They ’ re one way to conjure the sweet moments , bygone or forthcoming , which is why I ’ ve taken to re-creating them : frying bun after bun after bun , dropping them off outside friends ’ apartments , or passing them between the windows of our cars , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , bundled in napkins , to snack on while I FaceTime and text and Zoom folks near and far .
Some of my friends have turned to baking sourdough or layer cakes ; others have been perfecting variation upon variation of kimchi fried rice , or beans simmered for hours on end .
We ’ re all relying on the dishes that our pockets , and our new , circumscribed shopping routines , allow .
At home , we pass the time in small increments—an hour , a day , a week—waiting for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , to finally end .
But how lucky are we that the things we can control , for the foreseeable future , are ones that can steady us ?
Let the yeast activate for ten minutes .
Let the dough rise for ninety .
With a little patience , what you ’ ll end up with is a doughnut that ’ s crunchy on the outside , salty and savory on the inside , forgiving until it ’ s finished .
1 tsp .
yeast ¼ cup lukewarm water 3 cups all-purpose flour @ @ @ @ @ @ @ salt 2 Tbsp .
unsalted butter 1 cup water 1 cup Japanese curry , at room temperature ( I like this recipe , from Tadashi Ono , which substitutes one brick of packaged curry for the powder ) 1 egg , lightly beaten 1 Tbsp .
milk 1 cup panko vegetable oil , for frying 1 .
Combine yeast and water in a large mixing bowl and let sit for 10 minutes .
2 .
Add flour , sugar , butter , salt , and water , and mix to form your dough @ @ @ @ @ @ @ minutes by hand on a lightly floured surface ( or 5 minutes by machine ) .
4 .
Place the dough in an oiled bowl , cover with plastic wrap , and let rise for 90 minutes .
5 .
Punch the dough down , and knead for another five minutes .
6 .
Divide the dough into 8 pieces .
Pinch each into a ball .
Cover the balls in plastic wrap and set aside .
7 .
Mash the curry in a small mixing bowl to create a rough paste .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ at a time , roll each piece into a circle roughly six inches in diameter , place a heaping tablespoon of curry in the center .
Use your finger to brush water around the perimeter of the dough round , then fold it in half to form a semicircle and pinch the edges closed .
Fold the edge down to one side and pinch it closed again .
( You want the bun to look less like an empanada than a small football . )
9 .
Combine egg and water in a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ into the egg wash , then roll in panko .
11 .
Fry buns one at a time in the oil until golden brown ( roughly a minute on each side ) .
12 .
Remove each bun with a slotted spoon and set on a plate lined with paper towels , to drain and cool .

The star of kare pan—curry bread, in Japanese—is the thick, slightly smoky gravy that’s eaten, over rice (or udon!), all across Japan. You can find Japanese curry in local diners and roadside stalls and train stations and national chains, to say nothing of the name-brand establishments that’ve made their way to the States. But you’re even more likely to catch it in somebody’s home kitchen, made with store-bought bricks of curry, which are dissolved in stock and simmered with chicken and carrots and potatoes and onions. The dish is the answer to anyone’s argument that boxed, ready-made food is inferior. Frankly, it’s perfect.
Kare pan is a little like a savory jelly doughnut, with a pool of curry filling encased in a deep-fried yeasted crust. I typically make curry bread only every few months, because of both the tricky methods involved (making yeasted dough; deep-frying; it can be a fucking hassle) and the total time it takes (a couple of hours). But lately, with more time on my hands than I’ve had in years, I’ve leaned hard on kare pan. In many ways, it’s a perfect quarantine food. You can pick a bun up whenever the craving strikes, morning or noon or after midnight, as you’re pacing your kitchen, scrolling on your phone, sipping a beer and dreading our collective hellscape. Kare pan is a dish that takes you somewhere else, somewhere better, even if only for a couple of minutes.
The original kare pan is said to have been invented at the Tokyo bakery Cattlea, in 1927, when its owner applied the very Western notion of deep-frying to his country’s curry. The bakery, which is only a brisk walk from Morishita Station, still cranks out loads and loads of buns a day. But Cattlea’s wasn’t the first curry bread I had; that was in my old neighborhood, just outside of Houston, from an American-Chinese diner that served Japanese dishes if you knew to ask for them. They kept the kare pan in an aluminum tray beside the register, warming under a blinking light. The first time I had one, its flavor profile didn’t exactly make sense to me; the spices in Japanese curry are generally less heat-forward than those in the Jamaican curry I’d grown up with. All I knew was that it was delicious.
Since then, I’ve made it a point to try kare pan wherever I can find it. At a bakery in L.A., where I ate it sitting on the hood of my rental car, next to a father who was feeding pieces of his bun to his kids and a couple of guys who were sitting on the curb beside us, tearing off pieces for the birds. At another spot, in New York, I got lost looking for the place, walking in circles for like a fucking hour, only to wait another hour in the café, by the cash register, because something or other in the kitchen was broken. (Yes, the wait was worth it.) A few years back, I had kare pan in Shimokitazawa, on a work trip to Tokyo. There was a minor earthquake one evening, just before midnight; I was in the shower when it struck. (What was the point of earthquake alerts, a friend later asked me, if I wasn’t going to heed them?) I threw on clothing and stumbled outside, where the other residents of the building I was staying in were milling about, laughing and chatting and smoking. A lady was selling buns by a cart, and a line of people waiting to buy them stretched across the street. When I got to the front of it, I ordered a bun, walked away, and took a bite. Then I hopped right back in line. I ordered three more, then sat cross-legged, chewing, in the road with everyone else.
Where I live now, in Houston, my kare pan comes from a Japanese market not terribly far from my apartment. The bread is baked fresh every morning, wrapped in plastic, and displayed by the egg sandwiches and sake, just above the red-bean buns. Within a few hours, they’re usually gone, right along with the store’s milk bread and cheesecake. At the moment, though, my frequent trips to that store feel like they took place a lifetime ago. My routine has been swapped for a new one that’s mirrored by folks across the globe, or at least by those of us privileged enough to stay indoors: wandering back and forth from the bedroom to the living room and the kitchen. Maybe a solo sojourn outdoors, or a bike ride through barren streets.
Curry buns are warm memories of before—but they’re also a prophecy, if we’re lucky, for later. They’re one way to conjure the sweet moments, bygone or forthcoming, which is why I’ve taken to re-creating them: frying bun after bun after bun, dropping them off outside friends’ apartments, or passing them between the windows of our cars, or leaving them sitting in a pile, bundled in napkins, to snack on while I FaceTime and text and Zoom folks near and far. Some of my friends have turned to baking sourdough or layer cakes; others have been perfecting variation upon variation of kimchi fried rice, or beans simmered for hours on end.
We’re all relying on the dishes that our pockets, and our new, circumscribed shopping routines, allow. At home, we pass the time in small increments—an hour, a day, a week—waiting for this chapter, however long it lasts, to finally end. But how lucky are we that the things we can control, for the foreseeable future, are ones that can steady us? Let the yeast activate for ten minutes. Let the dough rise for ninety. With a little patience, what you’ll end up with is a doughnut that’s crunchy on the outside, salty and savory on the inside, forgiving until it’s finished.
Kare Pan (Curry Bread)
Makes eight buns
Ingredients
1 tsp. yeast
¼ cup lukewarm water
3 cups all-purpose flour
2 Tbsp. sugar
1 tsp. salt
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter
1 cup water
1 cup Japanese curry, at room temperature (I like this recipe, from Tadashi Ono, which substitutes one brick of packaged curry for the powder)
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 Tbsp. milk
1 cup panko
vegetable oil, for frying
Instructions
1. Combine yeast and water in a large mixing bowl and let sit for 10 minutes.
2. Add flour, sugar, butter, salt, and water, and mix to form your dough.
3. Knead dough for 15 minutes by hand on a lightly floured surface (or 5 minutes by machine).
4. Place the dough in an oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise for 90 minutes.
5. Punch the dough down, and knead for another five minutes.
6. Divide the dough into 8 pieces. Pinch each into a ball. Cover the balls in plastic wrap and set aside.
7. Mash the curry in a small mixing bowl to create a rough paste.
8. Working one ball of dough at a time, roll each piece into a circle roughly six inches in diameter, place a heaping tablespoon of curry in the center. Use your finger to brush water around the perimeter of the dough round, then fold it in half to form a semicircle and pinch the edges closed. Fold the edge down to one side and pinch it closed again. (You want the bun to look less like an empanada than a small football.)
9. Combine egg and water in a small mixing bowl. Dip each bun into the egg wash, then roll in panko.
10. Heat oil in a medium-sized pot.
11. Fry buns one at a time in the oil until golden brown (roughly a minute on each side).
12. Remove each bun with a slotted spoon and set on a plate lined with paper towels, to drain and cool.


newyorker--2020-04-15--Netflix Documentaries We Watched While Under Quarantine

“ ‘ He Also Tipped Reasonably Well ’ : Wringing the Last Feel-Good Drops Out of Mr. Rogers ” “ Aging Men with Ponytails Speak Rhapsodically About Some Dead Session Drummer ” “ You ’ re Smart for Hating That Politician : An Algorithmically Generated Confirmation-Bias Documentary ” “ The Adult Clown Whose Dad Was Somehow the Creepy One ” “ Bastards at the Gate : The Story of Baseball ’ s Craziest Ticket-Takers ” “ Medical Miracles 3 : My Spleen Is a Ball of Snakes ” “ Some Extra Photos of JonBenét Ramsey We Just Unearthed , Set @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Takes : The Wit and Wisdom of the Fyre Festival Evian Blow-Job Guy ” “ A Turd in the Hot Tub : Horror Stories from DoubleTree Cleaning Staff ” “ I Filmed Myself Pulling Apart This Old Cuckoo Clock ” “ The Secret Life of People Who Pretend to Be Chimps ” “ The Plant-Based Food Revolution That Will Transform the Way You Eat for Nearly Two Weeks ” “ I Thought That ’ d Be Harder : The Civil War ’ s Most Bloodless Battle ” “ R-O-I-D : The Gorilla Hormone @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” “ More Than Just a Serial Killer : John Wayne Gacy ’ s Unparalleled Clowning and Tumbler Skills ” “ Dogs : Pretty Stupid in the Grand Scheme of Things ” “ Kids Winning High-School Basketball Championships But Then Failing When It Comes to Life ” “ Up from Above : The Alien-Anal-Probe Aetna Insurance Conspiracy ” “ District 14 : The Story of a Single Congressional Race That Will Renew Your Faith in Democracy Until the Next Time You Check Twitter ”

Scott Jacobson, Todd Levin, Jason Roeder, Mike Sacks, Ted Travelstead

“Unlikely Animal Friends with Benefits”
“ ‘He Also Tipped Reasonably Well’: Wringing the Last Feel-Good Drops Out of Mr. Rogers”
“Aging Men with Ponytails Speak Rhapsodically About Some Dead Session Drummer”
“Robert Durst: The Untold Belches”
“You’re Smart for Hating That Politician: An Algorithmically Generated Confirmation-Bias Documentary”
“The Adult Clown Whose Dad Was Somehow the Creepy One”
“It Wasn’t All Bad: Meatless Mondays at Jonestown”
“Tiger King 2: Big-Fanged Bloody Bloopers”
“Approaching Everest: Actually, Base Camp Is Good Enough”
“Bastards at the Gate: The Story of Baseball’s Craziest Ticket-Takers”
“Michael Pollan’s Let’s Walk Around the Food Court”
“Medical Miracles 3: My Spleen Is a Ball of Snakes”
“Some Extra Photos of JonBenét Ramsey We Just Unearthed, Set to Eerie Music”
“Whatever It Takes: The Wit and Wisdom of the Fyre Festival Evian Blow-Job Guy”
“Fantastic Drone Footage 4: Two Wolves Eat a Discarded Hoagie”
“Outrageous Sexual Fetishists in Their Messy Bedrooms”
“Scientology Takes Another Beating”
“A Turd in the Hot Tub: Horror Stories from DoubleTree Cleaning Staff”
“I Filmed Myself Pulling Apart This Old Cuckoo Clock”
“Charles Manson: The Hamburg Years”
“The Secret Life of People Who Pretend to Be Chimps”
“ESPN 30 for 30: That Night Tommy Lasorda Ate Twenty-four Hotdogs”
“The Dark Side of the Franklin Mint”
“Who Killed Leaping John? The Ultimate Frisbee Doping Scandal”
“Jiro Dreams of the IHOP Build-Your-Own-Pancake Combo”
“Dads Who Watch a Ton of Nazi Docs”
“Ted Bundy: America’s Yummiest Serial Killer”
“Michael Moore Accomplishes Nothing”
“The Plant-Based Food Revolution That Will Transform the Way You Eat for Nearly Two Weeks”
“Old Cranks Making Weird Eye Contact: An Errol Morris Omnibus”
“I Thought That’d Be Harder: The Civil War’s Most Bloodless Battle”
“R-O-I-D: The Gorilla Hormone Scandal That Rocked the National Spelling Bee”
“More Than Just a Serial Killer: John Wayne Gacy’s Unparalleled Clowning and Tumbler Skills”
“Periodontal Disease Me! Morgan Spurlock’s Year Without Flossing”
“Dogs: Pretty Stupid in the Grand Scheme of Things”
“He Stayed Fat”
“Kids Winning High-School Basketball Championships But Then Failing When It Comes to Life”
“Taylor Swift: Coached Toward a Simulacrum of Candor”
“Up from Above: The Alien-Anal-Probe Aetna Insurance Conspiracy”
“Wry Brit vs. Confused Redneck: A Travelogue”
“Bratz Dolls: My Totally Bratty Obsession, by Werner Herzog”
“American Masters: The Guy Who Invented Cheese-in-the-Crust Pizza”
“District 14: The Story of a Single Congressional Race That Will Renew Your Faith in Democracy Until the Next Time You Check Twitter”