friend

Ciara Miller and Maura Higgins will be among the stars competing for the Mirrorball Trophy.

“Summer House’s” Miller and “The Traitors” contestant Higgins — both publicly betrayed by men they trusted on their shows — are the first celebrities joining Season 35 of “Dancing With the Stars.” Disney announced the new season Wednesday during Hulu’s Get Real House event in Los Angeles.

Miller joins the cast less than a month after it was revealed that her “Summer House” castmate and ex-boyfriend, West Wilson, was dating her friend on the show, Amanda Batula. She teased her “DWTS” news with an Instagram video in which she wrote out her “Next Chapter 2026” to-do list, which included “prioritizing” herself, “taking risks” and “Dancing With the Stars.”

Higgins, who lost Season 4 of “The Traitors” in the finale after being blindsided by her friend and co-star Rob Rausch, rose to prominence on “Love Island” in 2019. Higgins shared her excitement in a video on Instagram, saying, “Please pray for me.”

“Get me on that dance floor. I want to win the trophy,” Higgins said. “I’ve manifested this.”

Higgins told reporters at the Get Real House event that Mark Ballas is her dream partner.

The announcement comes after a landmark season of “DWTS,” which saw a record-breaking number of fan votes. In November, The Times spoke with “DWTS” showrunner Conrad Green, who attributed the ratings spike to reviving “communal viewing experiences.”

“It’s been largely a question of keeping our existing audience and then finding a new audience of 18- to 30-year-olds. That’s partly fed by social media. It’s partly fed by a desire to have communal TV viewing experiences,” Green said. “That was something everyone had with ‘American Idol’ and ‘Dancing With the Stars’ 20 years ago, but TV doesn’t lend itself to that so much anymore.”

During the event, Disney also announced a new spinoff series, “Dancing With the Stars: The Next Pro.” “DWTS” Season 34 winner Robert Irwin will host the show. According to the synopsis, it “features 12 exceptional up-and-coming dancers who move into one house and compete in a grueling audition process, all vying for a coveted spot as a pro dancer on Season 35 of ‘Dancing with the Stars.’”

“DWTS” pro and three-time Mirrorball champion Ballas will host the show alongside his mother, former ballroom dancer Shirley Ballas. The series will premiere July 13 on ABC.

With more than 60 song credits, Armenta’s songwriting prowess can be heard across some of the most popular música mexicana albums to date, whether by Fuerza Regida, Tito Double P, Peso Pluma or Dareyes de la Sierra.

“I consider myself a tailor,” said Armenta, 25. “[I’ll create] a sound that will be good with your vocal timbre, with your tones, with the vocal intention you need.”

The singer-songwriter wrote Fuerza Regida’s gritty hit “Marlboro Rojo” in 45 minutes, ensuring that the song’s aggressive, battle-ready lyrics also captured a romantic spirit. (“The devil’s bullets and I only think of your eyes,” sang Jesús Ortiz Paz, a.k.a. JOP.) And he wrote “Dos Días” for Tito Double P and Peso Pluma one early morning after a wild night out with friends; you can hear the emotional hangover in the way the vocalists’ rugged voices flail in desperation.

“The most important thing is always to convey something where people can immerse themselves in a feeling,” said Armenta, whose full name is Miguel Armenta.

He dialed into our interview from a tour bus departing from Austin, Texas, en route to the next concert venue on the Dinastía Tour by Peso Pluma, Tito Double P and friends. Armenta was instrumental in writing and producing Tito Double P’s 2024 debut “Incómodo,” a 21-track project that helped distinguish the Mexican corrido singer from his already famous cousin, Peso Pluma.

“I feel that it’s a project that has solidified the responsibility we have as composers and as artists, [it’s] an album full of hits,” said Armenta, who later wrote tracks on Tito Double P and Peso Pluma’s joint 2025 LP “Dinastía.”

Since the beginning of March, Armenta has joined the pair of cousins on stage for their acoustic- and brass-powered song “London,” a track on the deluxe edition of “Dinastía” that indulges in fantasies of living like kings. The song was cut from Armenta’s own 2025 debut, “Portate Bien,” a blend of corridos tumbados with melodic touches of reggaeton and pop.

“I had just bought my own house and I wrote [‘London’] feeling like king of the world in my own studio,” Armenta said. “I thought that song was dead, but I got a call from Double P [Records] asking if I was interested in releasing it with them.”

Armenta’s entry into the música mexicana realm was not as calculated as his lyricism; at least not at first. Coming from a family full of industrial engineers, the Sinaloa-born, Tijuana-raised composer initially set his sights on a degree in biomedical engineering. “I liked the idea of being able to use technology to create advancements that benefit humanity,” he explained.

His passion for music, however, lingered persistently in the background. Starting from when he was 11 years old, Armenta would write lyrics in journals and strum along to the guitar his brother bought him. “He didn’t like that I used his guitar, so he bought me one,” he recalled.

He also gravitated toward independent YouTube artists who uploaded their raw compositions online. By age 18, he would compose one of his first R&B songs, titled “Dame” — though the tenderly sung track wouldn’t be published until two years later.

“It was the first song that I bet on as an artist, and I spent the very little money that I had on it,” Armenta said. “A literal sacrifice. I knew that the song had something, but I didn’t know what until later.”

In about 2020, Armenta helped compose some songs for Angel Ureta, a friend who signed with Street Mob Records, founded by Fuerza Regida’s JOP. Armenta eventually developed a working partnership with the indie label, which continued sign popular música mexicana acts like Calle 24, Chino Pacas and Clave Especial.

One of Armenta’s earliest hits with Fuerza Regida came in late 2022 as “Bebe Dame.” The band recorded the song alongside Grupo Frontera, who earlier that year had reached TikTok popularity for the cumbia nortena spin on “No Se Va,” a 2018 pop song by the Colombian band Morat.

Armenta proposed the adoption of his own track from the vault, “Dame,” which by that point had fewer than 1,000 views online. With some lyrical tweaking by Edgar Barrera — a 29-time Latin Grammy-winning songwriter, who Armenta later befriended — the revamped version, “Bebe Dame,” became an immediate sensation.

It helped score Fuerza Regida their first career entry into the Billboard Hot 100 at the start of 2023, later peaking at No. 25. By 2024, Fuerza Regida became one of the biggest streaming Latin acts in the U.S., alongside Junior H, Peso Pluma and Bad Bunny.

In 2024, Armenta and Barrera reunited again in secret to hash out what would be Grupo Frontera and Fuerza Regida’s joint EP, “Mala Mía” — “without either group knowing,” Armenta said. Their viral corrido-cumbia single, titled “Me Jalo,” secured Fuerza Regida’s first Latin Grammy nomination, and Grupo Frontera’s fourth, under the category of regional song at the 26th Annual Latin Grammy Awards.

“Edgar and I focus a lot on how to evolve sounds,” Armenta said. “We are in the process of recognizing [the value of] música mexicana, that we can’t let this die.”

Between 2024 and 2026, 12 of Armenta’s songs have been recognized by the BMI Latin Awards — which honors songwriters, composers and publishers — including Fuerza Regida and Grupo Frontera’s joint collaborations “Bebe Dame” and “Me Jalo,” as well as Fuerza Regida’s “TQM,” “Nel” and “Por Esos Ojos.” Tito Double P’s “Dos Dias” and “Escapate” (feat. Chino Pacas) also received accolades.

For now, the songwriter shows no signs of stopping his lyrical magic, though he figures he might part ways with the music world 10 years from now — but not before winning a couple of Grammy Awards, he said, or even starting his own publishing label for songwriters and composers. (“My mom says I’m going to get gray hairs,” he added.)

“I think that life put me here to have fun,” Armenta said. “I had another destiny, but life accommodated itself to place me in this valuable situation.”

Cameron Collins was sick of Joe Biden.

The owner of concert promoter Brew Ha Ha Productions describes himself as a libertarian-leaning conservative who built his career in San Juan Capistrano. He’d kept his personal politics out of his popular SoCal events, like the ska fest OC Super Show and the nationally touring Punk in the Park fest, a staple for bands like Bad Religion and Pennywise.

On May 30, 2024, Collins felt dismayed that Biden had pursued reelection. In a fit of anger, he donated $225 to Donald Trump’s campaign.

“It was just an impulsive thing,” Collins said in an interview. “Biden had said he was going to run again. I was like, nope. He’d said he wasn’t. It was more about that than anything. I don’t post anything political or talk about anything politically. I’ve never donated to anything like that before.”

That donation proved fateful. After a small punk label discovered and decried Collins’ donation, the scene turned on him. Influential bands pulled out of his festivals or said they wouldn’t return.

On Feb. 27, Collins canceled every Punk in the Park date for 2026.

“The current climate surrounding the events has created challenges that make it impossible for us to move forward,” the organizers wrote on Instagram.

It’s no surprise that an underground music scene would loathe a Trump-donating promoter. Amid the Iran war, raids by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, and the Epstein files, many Americans want Trump supporters gone from their lives, some viewing any form of support for him as an attack on their and others’ safety and dignity.

Yet until this donation, Collins was a respected promoter whose events sustained hundreds of acts, including progressive bands. Some artists who relied on Collins’ festivals — even if they hate his politics — said the backlash will hurt their livelihoods too.

“It was the worst money I ever spent,” Collins said. “It was not worth this.”

On a March afternoon after canceling his tours, Collins spoke to The Times on a Zoom from his home in Texas. He wore a thick gray beard and the chunky glasses of an aging rocker. His home office was plastered in concert posters from his decades of shows, which include Punk in Drublic (a long-running collaboration with his friends in the left-leaning band NOFX), Silverado Showdown in Orange County and SoCal rock radio station KLOS’ Sabroso Festival.

He expressed bewilderment over the fan revolt that turned him from a scene mogul who gave to pediatric cancer research charities to a villain with a gutted festival business.

“I feel like my reputation with every artist I ever worked with was that they would say, ‘The guy’s got integrity. He treats everyone right. He fights for this scene,’ ” Collins said. “I’m wondering what is happening right now that this has become so polarizing.”

Asked what Trump policies he supported, Collins sighed and said, “A vote for a candidate is not an endorsement of everything they stand for. I am very antiwar. There were promises that Trump made — no more foreign wars, supporting Ukraine by ending that war, lowering prices on gas and on groceries. Dinner table topics.”

Those goals are significantly at odds with the president’s track record. Did Trump deliver on Collins’ donation?

“The way that this whole fiasco has gone down — no one would have voted for that,” he said.

Punk has long struggled with a reactionary streak. British bands in the ‘70s wore swastika armbands for shock value. The Sex Pistols’ Johnny Rotten and the Ramones’ Johnny Ramone turned rightward, and Orange County’s hardcore scene has had neo-Nazi extremists. Gen X punk fans who consider themselves anti-establishment might see online leftists as imposing on their ability to have consequence-free political speech.

Yet the vitality of today’s punk scene is driven by young, racially and sexuality-diverse fans who believe they are in grave danger from Trump’s policies.

Last year, Brandon Lewis, the founder of the Columbus, Ohio-based label Punkerton Records, was poking around on the donor database Open Secrets. He was curious how his scene was donating, and he’d attended Brew Ha Ha events like the Ohio punk festival Camp Anarchy. He checked where Collins put his money and was appalled that it went to Trump.

“We refuse to support, defend, or stay silent about someone who gave money to a man actively destroying everything we care about, deporting our friends and families, erasing the existence of our trans community, stripping away civil liberties, civil rights, and workers’ rights, while dismantling the Constitution itself,” Lewis wrote from Punkerton’s Instagram.

“I’m a combat veteran, and this administration is just pushing everything I believe in about freedom out the window,” Lewis told The Times. “When I would listen to Trump’s rhetoric about ICE — I’ve got friends who are undocumented. Supporting that in a financial way, supporting someone saying my trans friends don’t exist, and to do so coming from a music scene that to me is accepting and kind and certainly not ripping families apart, I couldn’t in good conscience let that go.”

Other bands in the scene, like Dillinger Four, found more donations — around $100 or $200 each — from Collins going to the Trump-supporting political action committees WinRed and Never Surrender and the Trump National Committee. Collins’ support ran deeper than a one-off gesture.

Left-leaning fans demanded that bands drop off Collins’ festival bills.

Dropkick Murphys, a rough-and-ready enemy of Trumpism in punk, had played Collins’ past events. When word of his donations spread, the band came out swinging.

“Punk Rock and Donald Trump just don’t belong together,” they wrote in an Instagram post . “So, upon finding out that Brew Ha Ha promotions donated to the Trump campaign, we will not be playing any more Punk in the Park shows.”

Some acts, like old-guard punks the Adicts and ska group the Aquabats, canceled sets at Collins’ events. Other bands, like Dead Kennedys, said they opposed his beliefs but fulfilled their contracts.

“Dead Kennedys have always stood firmly against authoritarianism, racism, and fascism. That has not changed,” the group wroteon social media. “After these scheduled appearances, we will not be participating in future Punk In the Park events.”

Collins said he understood why bands jumped ship. “There was so much pressure building,” he said. “The bands are a business. You have to say, at what level is the pay worth the headache?”

Yet he insisted that “anyone that pulled off did not pull out because they were standing for something, but were being pummeled to the ground by everyone that said they’d better do it or else. I don’t want those bands to go through that.”

Many fans say that Collins is seeing the predictable consequences of supporting a politician the scene despises.

Others struggled with what to do in response. Monique Powell, the singer for the Orange County ska band Save Ferris, describes herself as a “queer anarchist anti-Netanyahu Jewish child of a North African immigrant,” and far from a Trump sympathizer. Yet Save Ferris played Collins’ OC Super Show event in spite of the protests and bands pulling out.

She said that, while she opposes MAGA, she “wasn’t willing to disappoint fans and put hundreds of people out of work just because someone had a view I didn’t agree with.”

She said Collins “has been an important part of creating and nurturing this scene. He gave a lot of people work. From onstage, I see all the vendors, the stage crew, all providing jobs for people of all backgrounds. He’s given a place for fans to come together, even if they don’t all believe the same stuff.”

Save Ferris was a breakout act in the ‘90s and is now a working-class band on the ska and punk festival circuit. “I see the midsized, hometown venues that the bands of my ilk play — they’re being bought out or dying,” Powell said. “I’m not about to start getting out pitchforks for someone who did something that’s nothing compared to the effects of larger companies.”

Take, for example, Beverly Hills-based concert giant Live Nation, which was in the news last week after a federal jury in New York ruled against it in an antitrust case. Live Nation’s chief executive, Michael Rapino, has donated to Democrats Kamala Harris, Sens. Jacky Rosen of Nevada, Lisa Blunt Rochester of Delaware and Adam Schiff of California, and the music biz-friendly Texas Republican John Cornyn. Live Nation’s PAC has given to Republican Sens. Marsha Blackburn of Tennessee and Ohio Rep. Jim Jordan, alongside several Democrats. Billionaire Philip Anschutz, whose namesake firm AEG is the parent company of Coachella promoter Goldenvoice, has donated millions to Republican politicians, PACs and party organizations for decades — exponentially more than Collins ever did.

It’s fair for to wonder why music fans who hold the line on supporting a Trump donor like Collins might attend those other shows. Lewis said he struggles with that contradiction too but said it hurt worse coming from a punk promoter.

“Donating to Trump is antithesis of what punk means. Hating people for their sexuality or skin color is not punk in the least bit. People clearly expected better from a punk rock festival,” he said.

“I think Live Nation should be broken in half,” Lewis added. “But it’s no knock on someone who wants to see Social Distortion at a Live Nation venue; they need escape as well. I’m just not going to pretend Live Nation is a beacon for good things.”

Those punk communities are pushing back beyond Collins’ events. The SoCal gothic-cumbia DJ collective Los Goths pulled out of the Orange County festival Los Darks after learning its organizers, Peachtree Entertainment, produced the MAGA-champion Kid Rock’s controversial Rock the Country festival. The Los Angeles crust-punk event C.Y. Fest was scrapped after its organizer, Ignacio “Nacho Corrupted” Rodriguera was accused of sexual misconduct (he called the claims “false allegations and misinformation,” but stepped back from the festival).

Collins’ company produces events outside the punk scene, focused on craft beer and other music genres. He recently revamped his upcoming Me Gusta festival into Sublime Fest after the rap group Cypress Hill pulled out. (Last year, Sublime played at the Trump National Doral golf course for the Saudi-backed LIV Golf tour.)

Collins is not sure how he’ll find his way back into the punk scene or if the fans will want him there again.

“I still go out into the audience because I just want to see, is it real? Do people hate me?” he said. “We have bands up there like the Casualties, who are flying [anti-ICE] flags. People are like, ‘You’re a fascist,’ but I’m paying a band to go on my stage to say whatever they want, and then signing a check and going, ‘Thanks for doing it.’ ”

In America‘s current political climate, left-leaning punk fans may not have patience for Trump sympathizers. Having heterodox beliefs is one thing; financially supporting the president is another. Collins is a free market guy, and the punk market has spoken.

Yet huge companies that donate to Trump and his allies are consolidating the industry. It’s harder for progressive punks who want the scene to reflect their values.

“I feel like we created a sustainable, realistic scene that can keep going for years, and bands can earn the money that they need to anchor those tours,” Collins said. His donation caused this avoidable backlash, but “if you take away festivals that are their anchors, like we have been for so many of these artists over the years, how do they tour? This is what the bands are telling me, that ‘we’re the ones getting killed here.’ ”

Clavicular, the manosphere influencer leading the “looksmaxxing” movement, was rushed to the hospital Tuesday after a suspected overdose in a Miami nightclub.

The controversial internet celebrity, born Braden Eric Peters, was live streaming to his hundreds of thousands of followers from a Miami hot spot Tuesday night when the party took a dark turn. Live stream footage showed Peters hanging with friends outside of the club when he took a swig from a tiny bottle and said he was going to be “done for,” and “that was giga,” meaning that whatever he had taken was a large dose.

Inside the club, with cameras still rolling, Peters found a place to sit down with his friends and started to say “Oh my God” repeatedly and rubbing his eyes. A friend sitting next to him, influencer Androgenic, asked “How f— are you?” and then repeatedly offered him an “addy,” which is short for Adderall, a prescription stimulant used to treat ADHD that’s often sold as a party drug. Peters started to mumble, sway and close his eyes as the camera panned away.

TMZ obtained the audio from a 911 call alerting emergency services to the possible overdose of a 20-year-old man. Additional videos, taken by bystanders, have since made their way online showing Peters being carried out of the nightclub.

A source close to Peters told the Times that he was hospitalized for the overdose and checked himself out Wednesday morning.

“Just got home, that was brutal,” Peters wrote early Wednesday on X. The influencer, who has said he has autism, also posted a selfie with dried blood on his face. “All of the substances are just a cope trying to feel neurotypical while being in public, but obviously that isn’t a real solution. The worst part of tonight was my face descending from the life support mask.”

On his Kick channel Wednesday, Peters live streamed as he played online slots and said that “it could have been worse” and he wouldn’t “do that s— anymore.”

He also said that in the hospital, doctors asked what he planned to do after he was discharged. “Then I was like, ‘Dude, I got the club grand opening,’” he said, adding that doctors advised him to get rest and shouldn’t attend. “I was like, dude, gotta be on the grind.”

The influencer, who rose to fame helming the “looksmaxxing” movement — a subculture hyperfocused on taking extreme measures to perfect one’s physical appearance — has been candid about using drugs, from steroids, peptides and testosterone to methamphetamine and Adderall. He has also said he chisels his face by smashing his bones with a hammer.

Androgenic, the influencer videotaped asking Peters if he needed “an addy” as Peters swayed and lost motor function control, has also been vocal about his own drug use. He recently posted on X that he was on “Walter White’s batch” when someone snatched his wig off his head and ran away. (Walter White is a fictional chemist and crystal meth manufacturer from the show “Breaking Bad.”)

A source close to Peters told The Times that Androgenic was escorted away from the hospital where Peters was being treated for the overdose Tuesday night.

Androgenic has not responded to The Times’ request for comment.

Tuesday’s suspected overdose is the latest in a series of incidents involving the manosphere personality. Last month, Peters was arrested in Florida on suspicion of misdemeanor battery. The Osceola County Sheriff’s Office alleged Peters instigated a fight between his girlfriend, Violet Lentz, 24, and a 19-year-old influencer in February at a short-term rental in Kissimmee, Fla.

The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission launched a separate investigation into another of Peters’ videos involving an alligator in the Everglades.

In that video, the influencer appears to come across what is seemingly the carcass of an alligator floating in the water and shoots it repeatedly. Peters has not been charged with any crime in that incident.

According to Peters’ Kick live stream, the influencer is headed back out Wednesday night to celebrate Miami’s Bacara Club streaming launch party.

Anyone who has jumped out of a plane with a parachute deserves respect, but to do it 36 times, that’s worthy of a salute.

Saul Pacheco, who turns 88 in November, is sitting in a lawn chair at the Arcadia Invitational with his friends, the starters dressed in red suits who fire pistols to begin races.

That’s when he mentions how he was in the 82nd Airborne Division and jumping out of planes in the 1960s after graduating from Wilmington Banning High and UCLA.

“I was a jump master who became in charge of the parachute troopers,” he said.

Then he talks about becoming a teacher and wanting to return to his alma mater, Banning, which had no openings, so he ends up at rival Carson and coaching the offensive line for Hall of Fame coach Gene Vollnogle for more than two decades. Vollnogle was football coach from 1963 to 1990, winning eight City titles.

Pacheco also became a track starter in 1977. He was already well trained to fire a pistol. It was learning all the rules required in track and field that needed to be mastered.

He apparently did just that, because he’s been at it for 49 years and plans to retire as a track starter this spring. For 25 years, he was a starter for the Arcadia Invitational. Then he became the meet referee to settle any disputes. The respect he has earned can be seen in the way other starters appreciate him for helping them learn the ropes.

He’ll be inducted into the Carson Hall of Fame this fall for his contributions as a coach and athletic director.

His story is pretty amazing. He was one of 13 children. His parents apparently wanted enough siblings to form a football team. His father was a carpenter helping build minesweepers at Terminal Island for the Navy. His mother stayed home and took care of everyone. The first seven kids born were boys. He was No. 5. Imagine the competition for food at dinner time.

“Everbody came in to eat at different times,” Pacheco said. “My mother did a great job having stuff ready.”

But what about 13 children together for Thanksgiving?

“We had a lot of laughs. We all got along.”

Five of the brothers are still alive, including a 90-year-old. All three sisters are alive. One of his brothers, Henry, was football coach at San Pedro for 12 years. Henry was drafted and ended up in the Vietnam War, where environmental issues might have led to the illness, lymphocytic leukemia, that took his life in 1991.

Two of his brothers worked for the LAPD. Two other brothers became firefighters. He has a grandson who’s a deputy sheriff in Riverside.

Pacheco has worked five state track championships and numerous City Section championships.

Like an umpire in football who calls a holding penalty, the only time anyone notices a starter in track is when there’s a false start.

“If there’s a false start, someone complains,” he said.

So why spend 49 years as a track starter?

“The fun part is watching all the athletes compete and being around all the other officials,” he said. “The officials are tremendous and dedicated trying to do a good job.”

All this came out by just happening to stop by and say hello to the starters who are always pleasant and enjoy talking. Unless you ask a question, you’ll never find out about someone’s background.

So why wasn’t Pacheco wearing a red suit like the rest of his friends at Arcadia?

“I brought it just in case,” he said. “I was an alternate.”

Pacheco is always prepared, whether jumping out of planes or teaching life lessons to football players.

If anyone deserves a salute, it’s Saul Pacheco.

WASHINGTON — President Trump responded to the collapse of high-stakes negotiations with Iran by escalating the conflict on Sunday, ordering a full blockade of shipping through the Strait of Hormuz — a risky move that could drive global oil prices higher and provoke confrontation with a far more formidable adversary.

No country relies more heavily on the strait than China, which receives nearly half of its oil imports through the international waterway. In recent days, Beijing has warned that access to its shipping lanes “must be guaranteed.”

Trump administration officials believe the blockade could compel China to pressure Tehran into making further concessions, following Beijing’s crucial role earlier this month in convincing Iran to accept an initial ceasefire.

But the decision by U.S. diplomats to tie negotiations over the status of the strait to those over the fate of Iran’s nuclear program — a matter of torturous diplomacy for the last quarter-century — could make it harder to secure a breakthrough.

In the meantime, a full blockade of the strait could force China to become more directly involved in a conflict that is already heightening tensions with Washington.

On Saturday, reports that Beijing could be preparing to send advanced missile and air defense systems to Iran prompted anger from the White House.

“If China does that, China is gonna have big problems,” Trump told reporters.

It is a high-stakes moment in the world’s most important bilateral relationship, ahead of a closely watched summit between Trump and Chinese President Xi Jinping in Beijing next month that both sides had hoped would help stabilize relations.

The United States and Iran agreed to a two-week ceasefire in the war on Tuesday — on the condition that Iran would allow full freedom of navigation through the strait, a vital commercial artery that was treated for decades as an open, international waterway.

Marathon negotiations in Islamabad, Pakistan, over the weekend between senior U.S. and Iranian officials failed to secure a long-term agreement.

Vice President JD Vance said the central sticking point was Iran’s insistence on maintaining its nuclear program. But Tehran also signaled that shipping through the strait would not return to prewar conditions, pledging to control traffic and impose transit tolls — a scenario that could result in permanently higher global oil prices, a political nightmare for the Trump administration entering the midterm elections.

Trump’s threat to completely shut down traffic through the strait on Sunday may also lead to a temporary spike in oil prices, with experts warning the market could experience barrels costing $150 or more if a blockade persists.

Describing his plans to Fox News on Sunday, Trump said there would be no exceptions to the U.S. blockade for Tehran’s “friends.” Throughout the war, Chinese-bound vessels were granted special passage by Iranian authorities.

“We’re putting on a complete blockade. We’re not going to let Iran make money on selling oil to people that they like and not people that they don’t like, or whatever,” Trump said.

“It won’t be a percentage,” he added. “It won’t be a friend of yours, like a country that’s an ally or a country that’s your friend. It’s all or nothing.”

Trump also wrote on social media that he had ordered the Navy to “seek and interdict every vessel in International Waters that has paid a toll to Iran” — and to “blow to hell” any Iranian assets that open fire on ships.

Beijing did not immediately respond to the proposal. But it has walked a fine line over six weeks of war in the region, describing open waters in the strait as of global interest, while avoiding any condemnation of Iran’s assertion of control.

China’s main energy trading partners in the gulf — Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates and Kuwait — have all advocated for a return to the status quo ante for the passage, pressing allies to reject Iranian control as the new normal.

“Keeping the area safe and stable and ensuring unimpeded passage serves the common interest of the international community,” a Chinese official said last week.

“We hope that all sides can work together,” the official added, “for the early resumption of normal traffic at the strait.”

NEW YORK — Former New York City Mayor Eric Adams announced Friday that he had become a citizen of Albania, putting him one step closer to his oft-repeated dream of leaving politics behind for a life abroad.

Adams, a Democrat, received the honorary citizenship “at his request,” according to an official decree from the country’s president, Bajram Begaj.

The news was first reported in the Albanian press and confirmed by a spokesperson for Adams, who said the ex-mayor had “long been a friend and ally of the Albanian-American community.”

“The decision by the Republic of Albania to grant Mayor Adams citizenship reflects that enduring relationship and mutual respect,” the spokesperson, Todd Shapiro, said in a text message, adding that the recognition “further strengthens the bond between New York and Albania.”

Adams, who once described himself as an “international mayor,” has previously expressed an affinity for the small Balkan nation. His adult son lived in the country while competing in Albania’s version of “American Idol” and Adams traveled there himself in October — one of several international trips taken in his final months in office.

The purpose, he said at the time, was “to say hello to a friend and learn from a friend and build a relationship with the friendship that would not allow our oceans or seas to divide us.”

It wasn’t immediately clear what, if anything, Adams planned to do with his new citizenship. But he has previously expressed a desire to move far from his hometown of New York City.

“When I retire from government, I’m going to live in Baku,” Adams, then Brooklyn borough president, said at an event honoring the Azerbaijan community in 2018. A few years later, in an interview with a Jewish publication, Adams said he would like to retire in the Israeli-occupied Golan Heights.

As mayor, Adams’ penchant for international trips to Turkey prompted a federal indictment focused, in part, on allegations that he accepted improper travel benefits from foreign nationals.

Adams denied the allegations, and the case was later ordered dropped by President Trump’s Justice Department. Adams later met with Trump administration officials about the possibility of taking an ambassadorship, which did not materialize.

Shortly after dropping his ailing bid for reelection, Adams embarked on a four-day trip to Albania, meeting with the country’s Prime Minister Edi Rama and members of his Cabinet, along with local business leaders. The trip was paid for in part by the Albanian government.

Since leaving office, Adams has been spotted in Dubai and the Democratic Republic of Congo, though his day-to-day activities remain a source of some speculation.

In January, he launched a cryptocurrency coin that he said would beat back antisemitism and “anti-Americanism,” but it drew scrutiny after losing millions of dollars in value.

Offenhartz writes for the Associated Press.

When the Hulu adaptation of Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale” premiered during the early months of the first Trump presidency, it was seen by many as a timely prophecy — the crimson cloaks and white bonnets of the story’s eponymous sex slaves became a symbol of protest against a president who, though not a religious man himself, embraced many policies supported by the far-right Christian minority, especially those regarding the reproductive and civil rights of women.

This was not the plan, of course, or at least not as regards the Trump factor. The book was written in 1985, the show greenlit long before Trump became president, which only proves the grim resilience of Atwood’s themes. So it shouldn’t be surprising that the sequel series, “The Testaments,” also has name-specific cultural resonance. Plum-cloaked in a YA-leaning, high school drama that owes as much to “Pretty Little Liars” or “Gossip Girl” as it does to “The Handmaid’s Tale,” “The Testaments” gives us an apocryphal version of the Epstein files.

Based on Atwood’s 2019 Booker Prize-winning novel, “The Testaments” takes place some years after the final events of “The Handmaid’s Tale” series and revolves around Ardua Hall where Aunt Lydia (Ann Dowd), having regained her Gileadean status, oversees the instruction of young women as they prepare to take up their lives as obedient wives and, Under His Eye, fruitful mothers.

Agnes (Chase Infiniti) is our initial central character and narrator. Though we know from her backward-looking tone that change is coming, her initial main worries are her mean stepmother and when (or if) she will finally begin to menstruate. She and her friends — Becka (Mattea Conforti), Shunammite (Rowan Blanchard) and Hulda (Isolde Ardies) — have all graduated from the “Pinks” (little girls) to the “Plums” (young women) but only Becka has achieved the “blessing” of menarche, which means she can now be chosen by an unmarried (or widowed) Commander or other man of lesser rank.

This particular form of reaping occurs midway through the season at a dance where all the eligible girls meet with all manner of young bachelors, only to discover that the oldest and most powerful members of the elite get first choice. Watching as the men joke among themselves before staking their claims, it is difficult not to think of Jeffrey Epstein parceling out young women to his powerful male friends (albeit not for marriage).

Though touched on throughout “The Handmaid’s Tale,” the horrifying connection between status and the systematic procurement of women is the sinister force that drives “The Testaments.” A global infertility crisis may have been the catalyzing force for Gilead’s rise but this “privilege” of power is not about repopulation; Agnes and the Plums are simply victims of sexual grooming taken to its pathological conclusion.

Becka is the only one who is less than thrilled by her “prospects” — everyone else, including Agnes, can hardly wait to be married off and, with any luck, quickly become pregnant (not that they know anything about sex, forced by the state or otherwise).

Having been raised in a beautiful home with no material wants, Agnes knows little about the outside world. Like most women in Gilead, she is not allowed to read or write, and she and her friends coolly accept public executions, torture and other means of corporal punishment as the inevitable consequence of breaking any of the many rules drilled into them. They accept that their bodies are instruments of the devil designed to compel men to commit lustful acts and that they are responsible for ensuring that this does not happen.

Ann Dowd reprises her role as Aunt Lydia in “The Testaments.”

(Russ Martin / Disney)

But girls will be girls and even under the stern eye of Aunt Vidala (Mabel Li) and the more kindly countenance of Aunt Estee (Eva Foote), they tease each other and romp together, compare hairstyles and trade snarky comments about the Aunts as they dream of a happy ending.

In its own way, that’s even more chilling and resonant than the horrors of “The Handmaid’s Tale.” Enslavement will always require some level of violence, but violence tends to spark rebellion — indoctrination is always more effective. Training people to believe they are fated, or even happy, to live without freedom, rights or real choice is the only way a totalitarian society can survive.

Showing this is far less exciting than the images of grown women being killed or stripped of their rights as presented in “The Handmaid’s Tale” (though “The Testaments” does offer a few very chilling flashbacks). But as social commentary, it’s difficult to beat the sight of young women, recognizable in so many ways as modern teens, complying with their own enslavement, out of ignorance and, as events proceed, the gut-wrenching fear of what the truth might mean.

Gilead’s future hangs on whether the Plums remain ignorant and compliant, as does the story of “The Testaments.” Agnes may not share Becka’s unhappiness with forced marriage, but she is soon given other things to worry about, including a growing attraction to one of the Eyes who guards her and a request to mentor one of the school’s new “Pearl Girls.” These young female missionaries, dressed in white, have been sent into Canada to draw girls to Gilead’s cause. Among the recruits is Daisy (Lucy Halliday), who Aunt Lydia puts under Agnes’ care.

Shunammite, the sharpest-tongued of Agnes’ friends, is convinced Daisy is a spy. Daisy, whose backstory includes, in the first episode, a brief glimpse of Elisabeth Moss’ June, certainly upsets things, most often by reacting to Gilead’s penchant for public atrocities the way a non-sociopath outsider would.

Over the course of the season (upon which many, many plot-point embargoes have been placed), Agnes and Daisy form a bond that threatens Agnes’ worldview, as well as her friend group. The novel “The Testaments” is a much larger and more complex book than “The Handmaid’s Tale.” Each are presented as historical records of a government long gone, but where Bruce Miller, who adapted both, had to first spin a series out of “The Handmaid’s Tale’s” relatively short and fairly elliptical story, he has much more to work with here.

He does so carefully, and perhaps a tad too slowly. Much of the first season is spent getting to know the girls, especially Agnes (whose pre-Gilead identity is obvious to anyone who read or watched “The Handmaid’s Tale.”) Coming off her Oscar-nominated performance in “One Battle After Another,” Infiniti masterfully conjures the rigorous placidity of a young woman so accustomed to holding herself in check she has a hard time recognizing the difference between her mask and her real self.

Her friends share the same disability, though to greater and lesser degrees. As their characters, Conforti, Blanchard and Ardies, deftly carve out discrete personalities beneath their plum-colored homogeneity, each playing a role that is, in turn, playing a role while also remaining desperately human.

Halliday as Daisy is the rawest nerve among them, but all the main characters, including the Aunts, are people trapped inside uniforms and all allow their intelligence to shine through state-imposed ignorance, embodying both the tense acceptance of indoctrination and the disorientation that strikes when it begins to crack.

Dowd, of course, is next level. Compressing and occasionally revealing all that she has been through in “The Handmaid’s Tale” and before, what she manages to make Aunt Lydia is both Dorian Gray and his portrait. What exactly Aunt Lydia is doing by handing Daisy into Agnes’ care is not made clear but she is obviously doing something.

Both “The Handmaid’s Tale” and “The Testaments” were written as historic documents gathered from a fallen regime; it doesn’t break any embargo to say that at some point Gilead will fall. Whether that fall begins, or occurs within, the action of “The Testaments” remains to be seen.

But we all know what happened to Epstein in the end.

Amanda Batula and West Wilson weren’t being coy — not “purposely” anyway.

The stars of the Bravo reality series “Summer House” — where a group of friends spend their summer weekends in the Hamptons and drama ensues — were just letting the romance percolate. And now they’re making it official.

The pair shared statements on their Instagram stories that they “wanted to provide some clarity” as rumors swirled about their status.

“It was never our intention to purposely hide anything. Given the complicated relationship dynamics involved and the scrutiny that comes with being on a reality show, we need a little space to process things privately before speaking on it,” the couple wrote. “We’ve shown up for each other as friends over the years, through all the highs and lows, and what’s developed recently was the last thing either of us expected.”

Over the course of the series, which debuted in 2017, relationships have become intertwined.

Wilson dated fellow “Summer House” co-star Ciara Miller, a close friend of Batula, in 2023.

And Batula was married to series co-star Kyle Cooke. In January, she announced their split, writing on an Instagram story that the couple had decided to “mutually and amicably” end their relationship. They married in 2021 and documented their struggles on “Summer House,” including when Cooke cheated on Batula in 2019, and spent the night at a fan’s apartment in 2025.

The pair explained that they chose to wait to publicly announce their relationship “to take time to understand” what they felt.

“Our connection grew out of a genuine, long-standing friendship, which made it especially important for us to approach this with care,” they wrote. “We also recognize that this has had an impact beyond just us and never wanted our actions to cause any hurt or be perceived as careless.”

Wilson previously insisted that Batula was just his “home girl” on an episode of “Watch What Happens Live With Andy Cohen.”

“We were just hanging out in New York. She’s single, I gotta show her the streets a little bit,” Wilson said on Friday. “But if it’s not clear, that’s a very important person to me, and I care about her a lot.”

While on “Watch What Happens” in early March, Cooke said he found the rumors about Batula and Wilson “ outrageous,” and that he didn’t think “there’s any merit to it.” Although he denied the rumors, he still voiced his support for Batula.

“It would certainly catch me by surprise and feel a little reckless. And I think I’d probably be the last person people would be worried about,” Cooke said. “But if it made Amanda happy, I think I just would have to vote ‘yay.’”

The bass genius Thundercat has, to his regret, been spending way too much time absorbing bad news on his phone.

“We are cellphones at this point, basically,” he said. “That’s what life feels like. It’s a weird one we’re living through right now, to say the least. You have to try to stay inspired, to keep moving forward. But like, you’re processing absolute hell and war in the background, and you’re still supposed to look cute.”

In Sunday Funday, L.A. people give us a play-by-play of their ideal Sunday around town. Find ideas and inspiration on where to go, what to eat and how to enjoy life on the weekends.

That whipsaw feeling — processing grief and destruction, while doing your song-and-dance to survive, all via the same rectangle — is the backdrop of Thundercat’s new album, “Distracted,” his fifth LP and first in six years. The album is a typically dense and playful showcase for his extravagant musicality, and packed with guests like ASAP Rocky, Tame Impala and Lil Yachty.

But it’s poignantly introspective on tracks like “What Is Left to Say” and “I Wish I Didn’t Waste Your Time.” “She Knows Too Much” has a touching cameo from his late friend and frequent collaborator Mac Miller.

“After [Miller’s] death, there were a lot of questions, a lot of stones left unturned,” Thundercat said. “But this song came to be from the simplicity of making music between friends. It’s a language, a snapshot. It was a beautiful moment between us.”

Thundercat, born Stephen Bruner, grew up in L.A. immersed in the city’s progressive jazz scene, playing with everyone from Kendrick Lamar to Suicidal Tendencies. These are some of the places around Los Angeles that still keep his inner comics-nerd satiated and musical curiosity fed — no matter what bleak news is blowing up his phone.

9 a.m. Find some coffee that slaps

If I notice that I’m doomscrolling, if stuff is getting a little bit too dark and weird and twisted, I’ll put my phone down and go drink some coffee and get way too much energy. I’ll go to the good old boys at Commissary. That’s good coffee.

My day doesn’t always consist of me picking my instrument up, but it’s more like as it feels right. If I’m not intentionally writing or working on somebody’s music, a lot of the time it’s just me. The time between is just as important as the time spent with music, so it’s learning to be OK without my bass in my hands for a second.

But there’s still so much to learn about harmony and melody from that instrument, you know? Nothing makes up for spending time with an instrument and learning it in a different manner. That’s how Larry Graham came up with slap bass. It has no bounds for what you want to create. It’s just about how far your mind can go with it.

Noon. Pick up a comic book

I find myself to be very much like a Lebowski-like character. The things that I enjoy bring me peace, like fashion and comics. The family at Golden Apple on Melrose have been my family since I was a child. The family there has always looked out for me and been avid supporters of my career. They remember my dad bringing me in — I remember the day that Image Comics premiered at Golden Apple. It’s nothing but love and artistry and great people to meet in Golden Apple — they’ve been one of the through lines in my life that has just been consistent. L.A.’s landscape keeps changing, but Golden Apple has been a beacon of nerdisms.

5 p.m. Fun at the movies

I have always been a fan of Universal CityWalk’s AMC theaters, even though they charge ridiculous prices. Everybody’s trying to keep their industry alive in this moment; it’s of one of those grit-and-bear kind of things. But at the same time, the experience that you have there is absolutely golden.

I love seeing movies there, because there’s so much to do around there. There’s a comic store, Halloween Horror Nights, Nintendo Land. There’s a Hot Topic, because I am a goth hoochie daddy. I’ve been going my whole life. I just enjoy going to the movies there by myself or with friends. Sometimes they get bored, because I will keep choosing to do this, but I don’t care, because it is a movie theater that I love. It’s always a joy to have AMC at Universal City Walk.

8 p.m. Sushi that’s a cut above

One of my favorite restaurants in L.A. is a restaurant by the name of Asanebo. It’s a sushi restaurant that is of very high prestige. The chefs there are very loving and caring. They make the most amazing food on the planet. It’s a beautiful environment — one of the best sushi restaurants, I would say, in the world. But it’s about the history for me, and the family that is built there, from the waitresses to the hosts. They treat you like royalty there.

10 p.m. Fun with friends and all that L.A. jazz

Most of the time, I don’t know what the hell is going on. A lot of the time, I would rather just sit on the couch and watch “Star Trek.” I’m not always wanting to immediately get up and just go sacrifice myself to the nightlife.

I really enjoyed growing up playing gigs all over L.A., but a lot of those places don’t even exist anymore. We could play outside the Hollywood Bowl. We’d play at a dive bar or play at a wedding, but my childhood friendships were linked to to the functionality of music in my life. If we were playing at a musty bar or some weird coffee house, it was like, “I get to play with Kamasi [Washington], and they’re going to pay us in sandwiches.”

I enjoyed The World Stage in Leimert Park. Low End Theory at the Airliner — I’d be hanging out with Flying Lotus or Tyler would drop an album and come up to perform. It was about my friends and hanging with the people that I love.

I think as time progresses, I enjoy spending time with my friends — whatever that entails. If it’s going out to a club and all that, seeing a friend perform, my friend Anderson has a beautiful club called Andy’s. There’s a restaurant called Verse, that’s owned by my friend Manny, that serves absolutely amazing food and has live music. It’s just fantastic. They just erected a Blue Note here in Los Angeles, which is awesome.

Where would you go to listen to a song by me and Channel Tres where you can dance on somebody’s butt? I’m still gonna say Andy’s, but I can finish off the night at Living Room. That’s a good place to listen and enjoy the nightlife, just a great club.

Joey Browner, a star defensive back at USC and a six-time NFL Pro Bowl selection, has died. He was 65.

“The Vikings are mourning the loss of Ring of Honor member Joey Browner,” the team said Sunday in a statement. “Browner will be deeply missed by former coaches and teammates, as well as many others he impacted throughout his life.”

The Vikings added in a separate post: “He helped define what it is to be an NFL safety.”

No cause of death was given. In August, former Minnesota quarterback Tommy Kramer organized a fundraiser for Browner, who Kramer said was “battling through some serious health issues.”

On Sunday, Kramer wrote about Browning on Facebook: “Not only a great player, a great person. Rest in peace my friend.”

Browner was one of six brothers, all of whom played college football and four of whom went on to play in the NFL. Younger brother Keith Browner, who also played at USC and spent five seasons in the NFL, died in November at age 63 after a sudden illness.

Oldest brother Ross Browner, who played 10 NFL seasons for the Cincinnati Bengals and Green Bay Packers, died in 2022. Another older brother, Jim Browner, who played two seasons for the Bengals, died in 2024.

A high school standout in football, basketball and track and field, Browner played at USC from 1979-1982. He was named team MVP his senior year and finished his college career with nine interceptions and 40 pass deflections, as well as one punt return for a touchdown.

In the 1983 draft, Browner became the first defensive back to be selected by the Vikings in the first round (19th overall). He went on to play nine seasons in Minnesota, making the Pro Bowl six times (1985-1990), and spent his final NFL season with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.

Browner finished his career with 37 interceptions, 17 forced fumbles and 17 fumble recoveries. He was named to the NFL 1980s all-decade team, as selected by the Pro Football Hall of Fame, and inducted into the Vikings’ Ring of Honor in 2013.

Sean Salisbury, a former quarterback whose career intersected with Browner’s in college and the NFL, was one of many in the football community paying their respects to the four-time All-Pro player.

“This is a major gut punch,” Salisbury wrote on X. “I was blessed to be his teammate at USC and with the Vikings! Phenomenal player and loved by so many. One of the best players I’ve ever played with in both college and the NFL. Very grateful to have called him a good friend. God Bless him and his family.”

Former tight end Steve Jordan, who played nine seasons with Browner in Minnesota, recently visited his former teammate in the Twin Cities, according to a Vikings news release.

“We’ve lost a great friend and one of the best Vikings teammates,” Jordan said in a statement released by the team. “God blessed Joey with phenomenal talent and a big heart to love people and be a beacon of positivity. Truly, he will be missed.”

Former quarterback Rich Gannon, who played five seasons with Browner in Minnesota, wrote on X: “Sad to hear about the passing of my former teammate Joey Browner. On the football field he was one bad dude, off he was a kind soul!”

Retired punter Greg Coleman wrote on X that “one of the happiest moments of my time with the Vikings” was learning that Browner was going to be added to the punt team.

“One of the best teammates you could have and a man I called Friend!” Coleman wrote. “Prayers up for his family. RIP JB!”

Current Vikings cornerback Dwight McGlothern wrote on X: “Dang, I had a chance to meet him my rookie year & I was wearing #47 at the time during camp & hearing about his accomplishments, I’m grateful to [have] had the chance to meet him & [represent] the # he wore with the Vikings !! Everytime I walk in the DB room I always see greatness on the wall !!”

On March 29, Taix as we know it closes forever. The iconic French restaurant originally opened downtown in 1927 and relocated to its current chalet on Sunset Boulevard in 1962. It’s a grim reminder of L.A.’s insatiable appetite to destroy its own heritage and especially devastating to a certain milieu of writers and artists, myself very much included. Since it announced its closure, I’ve been visiting as often as I can to say farewell, not only to the charmingly shabby faux-1920s interiors, but to the many lives I’ve lived at its tables. First as a young guitarist when a bandmate worked the bar’s soundboard, next with the Chinatown artist scene, then with Semiotext(e)’s avant-garde lit circle, later through firecracker romances and heartbreaks during the art party Social Club, recently floating through the louche carnival of Gay Guy Night and now with the circus of beatniks from my reading series Casual Encountersz.

• Share via Close extra sharing options

It’s difficult to explain why this cavernous and windowless restaurant means so much, so I’ve tried to list everything I love about Taix.

I love that they don’t play music. I love the 1960s bathrooms. I love the bottomless tureens of soup. I love the complimentary crudité from the pre-pandemic era. I love the cold pats of butter. I love that you can always get a table, no matter how many people roll in. I love the free refills on Diet Cokes. I love the 80-year-old couples on dates. I love how the dim lighting makes everyone seem chic. I love the frayed carpeting. I love the fake votive candles. I love the icy martinis. I love the corner booth beside the fireplace. I love the smoked mirrors and tin-plate ceilings in the elegant back dining rooms. I love the small fortune I’ve spent there picking up the check for many strippers, poets and bohemians. I love its rundown glamour, which miraculously evokes Old Hollywood, Belle Époque and trashy Americana all at once. I unironically love the food, which isn’t spectacular, but is very comforting. I love how a waitress once ran off with a friend of mine and slept on my couch for a week. I love how my wife generally hates eating at restaurants but loves eating at Taix. I love how every L.A. artist I know has their own singular version of this list.

The only thing I don’t love about Taix is that its owners are tearing it down to erect soulless condos. I know the city needs housing, but not like this. I hope we’ll all find a new place to call home again soon.

Taix shaped me as a writer and artist, along with so many others, which is why before the new owners demolish this cultural institution, I asked other creatives what the Echo Park landmark means to them.

Chris Kraus.

(Ariana Drehsler / For The Times)

Chris Kraus, writer, artist and co-editor of the independent press Semiotext(e): When I moved to L.A. in 1995, Taix was the go-to place, with its deep banquettes, cuisine bonne-femme and its nightly prix-fixe specials. Mostly it was police officers and their wives who went there. Sylvère Lotringer and I went often, for him it was a little reprieve from the non-Frenchness of L.A. He could order in French and exchange pleasantries with an elderly French waiter who seemed to live there. Years later, when Sylvère moved to Ensenada and was less active with Semiotext(e), Taix was the site of our “Annual General Meetings” — Hedi El Kholti, Sylvère and I would have dinner together and Hedi would catch Sylvère up on all the forthcoming publications and projects. Taix was a place to run into people unexpectedly. About a decade ago, when the bar was refreshed, it changed again and I kind of lost track of it.

Rachel Kushner, novelist: I dined at Taix probably once per week for 23 years. It hurts so much that it is closing. I simply stopped going, so that I could begin to grieve, and also to avoid every last random tourist standing by the host station, on their phone, and the glum possibility of being seated in the second dining room, a.k.a “the Morgue” as my friend Benjamin Weissman put it. I want to protect my memories of the special occasions I enjoyed in this perennial special occasion establishment … I want to remember Bernard, a cheerful Basque from Biarritz who worked there 60 years, got progressively trashed over the course of his shift, went to Bakersfield on Sundays to party with his sheep-herding countrymen, came back Wednesdays sunburned and happy. The old valets who were let go during the pandemic. I used to give them a Christmas bonus every year, as a thanks for letting me park my classic out front. Look, I was born in Taix. I mean, in a way. I nursed my newborn in Taix. He grew up there. People who criticize the food are losers, and will never understand. The steak frites are great. The panna cotta, discontinued after the pandemic, was my favorite. The Louis Martini Cabernet was reliable. (Bernard told me the wine cellar downstairs took up the entire footprint of the main restaurant. Don’t know if that’s true.) Meanwhile, I can’t put my arm around a memory. All the smart girls know why. It doesn’t mean I didn’t try.

Cord Jefferson, writer and director: When I started going to Taix, in 2004, you could still gamble at the bar. They sold keno slips and lottery tickets, and whenever Powerball got over $100 million, I’d buy a ticket with my pint. Where else can you do all that while simultaneously watching a game and eating a tourte de volaille? Taix was where I watched the heroic Zinedine Zidane headbutt the gutless Marco Materazzi in the saddest World Cup final ever. When France lost that afternoon, my favorite server, Phillipe, cried. Phillipe’s teeth were often as wine-stained as his customers’. He’d bum me cigarettes in the parking lot and speak abusively about the ways the neighborhood was changing. I’m happy Phillipe is not around to see the digital renderings of what they plan to erect once they demolish the Taix chateau: another condo building with all the charm of a college dorm. It’s a damn shame what’s happening to Taix. I wish I had more money so I could buy it and keep it around, but I never won the Powerball.

John Tottenham, novelist and poet: It’s a shame that Taix is closing, not only because other plans will now have to be made for my funeral reception, but because it was the last civilized watering hole in the neighborhood. There isn’t anywhere else that one can walk into and immediately satisfy the social instinct among a convivial and refreshingly diverse clientele in what is becoming an increasingly homogenized locality. It has been the nexus of my social life for over 20 years, and is simply irreplaceable.

Jade Chang.

(Ariana Drehsler / For The Times)

Jade Chang, novelist: I’d only known Taix as a raucous bardo of a French restaurant, then there was a memorial service for Alex Maslansky, my beloved friend Max’s brother, owner of Echo Park’s best bookstore, Stories. Alex was a beautiful and beleaguered soul, born worried, born romantic, difficult and hopeful and apparently a shockingly good poker player. The room was packed with music people and book people, sober friends and poker friends, packed with the gorgeous girls who’d always loved him, our collective sorrow potent and sweet enough to pull the walls in around us tight as we said goodbye and goodbye.

Alexis Okeowo, New Yorker staff writer: I was a late discoverer of Taix, stumbling upon it when I moved to a bungalow just above Sunset during the pandemic from New York. I seemed to only see writer friends there. I met up with a journalist for drinks and then ran into a new writer friend at the bar. I later had a big, spontaneous dinner with TV writer friends and then a birthday celebration in the dining rooms that ended in two friends escorting me home, sick and happy off a mostly-martini meal and the selfies I took in the bathroom with the iconic pink and gold wallpaper. Every time, there was talk about ideas and gossip and so, so much laughter.

Alberto Cuadros, writer/curator and co-founder of the Social Club: About 10 years ago, Max Martin and I started Social Club as a weekly social salon at Taix. We thought of it as a kind of Beuysian social sculpture, it was a weekly ritual, and over time it became something of an institution in the L.A. art world. Everyone knew where to go in L.A. on a Wednesday if they wanted to meet interesting people or find friends. I even met my wife there who was visiting from Montreal.

Siena Foster-Soltis, playwright: Taix felt like one of the few remnants of the L.A. I grew up in and love so dearly.

Ruby Zuckerman.

(Ariana Drehsler/For The Times)

Ruby Zuckerman, writer and co-founder of the reading series This Friday: Taix is the only restaurant in L.A. that doesn’t lose its mind if new friends drop in halfway through dinner or if you stay at your table for hours after you stopped ordering. That kind of flexibility leads to spontaneous nights where what started off as an intimate hang expands into an all-out party. As a writer, that flexibility has allowed me to meet editors, collaborators and readers, drawn together by pure fun rather than networking. One of my favorite nights involved getting in a physical altercation with novelist John Tottenham after he stole my phone to send prank texts to my boyfriend. I’ll miss taking selfies in the bathroom.

Blaine O’Neill, DJ and events organizer: I always say Taix is the “People’s Country Club.” It is exceptional because of the staff who understand the importance of hospitality, and the scale of the space is humane. You’re able to evade feeling pinched by the noose of transactional cosmopolitanism.

Tif Sigfrids, gallerist and publisher Umm…: Taix was a cultural nexus. A space with broad range. It went from being the dark bar I read books and day-drank at in my 20s to the place where I rented a private room to host my son’s first birthday party. It’s where I watched Barack Obama get elected twice, the Lakers win back-to-back championships, and where I indulged in countless night caps and an unreasonable amount of all-you-can-eat split pea soup. You never knew what kind of hot jock, wasted poet or other type of intrigue you might run into there. You can’t make a place like Taix up. It’s a place that just miraculously happens.

Kate Wolf, writer and editor: Though I have been going to Taix for nearly 20 years, embarrassingly, it was only in the last year that I realized the building wasn’t from the 1920s. Those smoke-stained mirrors, that tin ceiling, the drapery and light fixtures are in fact set-dressed — ersatz! Which of course only makes me love the place more. Taix’s history, and its spot in the city’s cultural firmament, cannot be denied. But what really makes it so special are the people who work there and the clientele, not its past. This point is perhaps my only hope in losing what is my favorite restaurant in Los Angeles. That by some divine grace, we will all find each other again in another spot, designed to a different decade than the horror-filled present, and fill it with the same warmth, the same bottomless soup bowl, the same cheer.

1/4

Hedi El Kholti, the co-editor of Semiotext(e).   (Ariana Drehsler/For The Times)

2/4

Writers Lily Lady and Siena Soltis-Foster.  (Ariana Drehsler/For The Times)

3/4

Poet Meat Stevens (Steven Lesser).   (Ariana Drehsler/For The Times)

4/4

Sammy Loren, writer and curator of Casual Encountersz.  (Ariana Drehsler/For The Times)

Hedi El Kholti, artist and co-editor Semiotext(e): Taix is where we would end up after every reading since 2004 when I started working at Semiotext(e). I have memories of being there with Kevin Killian, Dodie Bellamy, Gary Indiana, Michael Silverblatt, Colm Tóibín, Rachel Kushner and Constance Debré among others … Taix has that particular anachronistic vibe that made L.A. so charming when I moved here in 1992, one of these places that time forgot. It was odd when it became really hip in the last 10 years. It made me think of what Warhol wrote about Schrafft’s restaurant when it had been redesigned to keep up with the fashion of the moment and had consequently lost its appeal. “If they could have kept their same look and style, and held on through the lean years when they weren’t in style, today they’d be the best thing around.”

Loren is the founding editor of the art and literary conceptual “tabloid” On the Rag and curator of the reading series Casual Encountersz.

“What happened to my dreams? Simply put: they changed,” reads Phil Augusta Jackson aloud to a crowd in a furniture store. Tonight’s theme is change. From a podium, the television writer reflects on the long, thorny odyssey of his career. A pinball machine blinks in the background. Behind him, dreamy abstract prints hang on the wall, their shapes seeming to melt in the unseasonable spring heat.

Alongside mid-century furnishings and art in Echo Park, siblings Madeline Walter and Evan Walter host their wildly popular reading series, Essays. It’s a warm spring night. In a tender essay, Evan considers what he’s inherited from his idiosyncratic father. “I scream-sneeze like him now,” he reads. “It feels like a mess figuring out what parts of your parents you’re going to keep.”

In March 2024, the Walter siblings began the reading series in a friend’s backyard. “It was cold and wet, and we were so nervous nobody would come,” says Madeline. Since then, the show has moved through a series of venues before settling into a home at The Hunt Vintage. In just two years, it has grown into a local phenomenon, regularly drawing crowds of more than 150 people into the singular space.

The idea for Essays took shape during a conversation about creative constraints. Both writers and comedians, the siblings wanted to host a show that pushed beyond snappy punchlines and polished half-truths. “The objective is different from just being funny,” Madeline says. “It’s to tell me about yourself. Tell me something you’re thinking about.”

Siblings Madeline and Evan Walter host a popular monthly reading series called Essays at Echo Park’s Hunt Vintage.

(Ryan Wall )

Like many readings across Los Angeles, Essays taps into a growing appetite for sincerity. “People are really craving a space where you can be funny, be vulnerable, laugh at yourself — and where there’s an earnestness,” Evan says. That sensibility feels familiar to them. They grew up in what Madeline describes as a “very NPR-coded household that loved David Sedaris-style stuff.” She adds: “Doing something in the essay space feels like a surprising return to form.”

“One of my roommates describes it as a church-like experience, because everything is just so emotionally0driven and connective,” says Kaitlyn Kilmer, a longtime attendee.

The legacy of the series has begun to ripple outward. Their reading series has created a complementary Substack. Kilmer is now hosting a reading in her living room among friends.“We decided that we wanted to do our own, so I gathered a few friends who had been fans of the Essays show,” she says.

Essays exists in a larger network of reading series that make up Los Angeles’ diverse and ever-evolving literary scene. “There are so many readings now,” explains non-fiction writer Diana Ruzova, who frequently attends readings. “I’m not mad at it, though, mostly grateful that L.A. has a thriving literary community.”

In Los Feliz, Skylight Books continues to host intimate book launches for some of the most anticipated literary releases, drawing local favorites and celebrities.

“Our vibe is cozy,” says Mary Williams, general manager of Skylight Books. “We set up chairs under the big tree that grows in the middle of the store, and we hope this is a go-to place for our community to see their favorite authors while mingling with other book lovers.”

Elsewhere, at Heavy Manners Library, the tone of literary events leans more toward the experimental. “Experimental, unpolished writing can be shared and reflected on in an accessible, communal setting,” says program assistant Jane Shin.

This spring, literary events across the city run the gamut — from independent book fairs to poetry workshops, from the bizarre to the deeply vulnerable — welcoming everyone from curious newcomers to die-hard bookworms.

When Estuardo Mazariegos was 22, he was pulled over by Los Angeles police officers who found a gun and ammunition in the back seat of his Nissan Sentra.

The gun, he said, was not his. He was holding onto it for a friend, he said, but he got hit with a felony gun possession charge, later pleading it down to a misdemeanor.

Seventeen years later, Mazariegos is running for Los Angeles City Council — and he believes his gun conviction makes him a better candidate.

“I think it’s a strength. It’s not a liability,” said Mazariegos, who was born in Guatemala and grew up in Hollywood and South L.A. “I feel like it creates more of a connection with me and the community, because there’s so many people that are justice-impacted.”

But the gun charge could also be an issue for Mazariegos in his race against five other candidates to represent Council District 9, which covers part of South L.A. He was also convicted of shoplifting when he was 19.

The district is the poorest the city, and the council race is expected to be one of the most competitive city contests this June, with the current council member, Curren Price, terming out.

Mazariegos is head of the Alliance of Californians for Community Empowerment Los Angeles, a grassroots advocacy organization. The 40-year-old is backed by the L.A. chapter of the Democratic Socialists of America and supports leftist policies like reducing funding to the LAPD to spend more on other programs.

Jose Ugarte, a District 9 candidate who was a longtime Price staffer, believes his opponent’s criminal history is a red flag.

“Getting arrested and convicted for multiple crimes, including carrying a concealed loaded gun, should disqualify Estuardo in this race,” Ugarte said in a statement. “Instead, the Democratic Socialists of L.A. are propping up his candidacy and hiding his criminal past from voters who deserve to know the truth.”

DSA-LA co-chair Leslie Chang said her group is “proud” to stand with Mazariegos.

Mazariegos’ supporters say he hasn’t hidden his past.

Georgia Flowers-Lee, a vice president with United Teachers Los Angeles, said Mazariegos discussed his gun conviction and the circumstances surrounding it during his interviews with the union, which ended up endorsing him.

“He was up front, honest about the challenges and honest about the gun charge,” she said. “Walked us through what had happened and where it led and how and why he ended up pleading it out,” she said.

Flowers-Lee, who lives in the district, said that young men of color like Mazariegos are overpoliced.

“I do not see this as a disqualifier. And let’s talk about redemption,” she said.

Wednesday night, Mazariegos released a campaign video featuring him discussing gun violence and his conviction with childhood friends. He said it was a turning point in his life.

“That was the moment where I was like, it’s either now or never,” he said. “Either I leave this s— behind, or it’s going to eat me up. I’m never going back to that lifestyle. I’m going to dedicate myself to the people.”

Mazariegos said he never carried a gun, except for that one day, but many of his friends did.

“Guns were a very common thing. It was almost like having a bike,” he said.

Mazariegos said that in 2009, he was driving home from the San Fernando Valley in the early morning, after dropping friends off, when he was pulled over by the LAPD. He said the officers gave no reason for stopping him, but they made him get out of his car and searched it without a warrant, finding the gun.

He was a permanent resident at the time, after moving from Guatemala at a young age, and was advised by his attorney to plead guilty to a misdemeanor charge of carrying a concealed weapon in a vehicle, to avoid possible deportation, he said.

He was sentenced to 24 months of probation and one day in jail, court records show.

Growing up in Hollywood and Hyde Park, among other parts of the city, Mazariegos was intimately familiar with gun and gang violence.

His friend, Oscar Michael Morales, was shot to death in 2001 at age 14. He remembers Morales’ mother cleaning the blood off the sidewalk the next day.

His gun conviction helps him connect with residents of Council District 9, Mazariegos said, and he frequently discusses it while door-knocking.

Ugarte, meanwhile, is paying off $25,000 in fines to the city Ethics Commission for failing to disclose years of outside income while he was working for Price.

Price himself has been criminally charged with four counts of voting on matters in which he had a conflict of interest, five counts of embezzlement and three counts of perjury. Prosecutors allege he voted to approve deals with developers or agencies that had done business with his wife.

Imagine cutting the cost of accommodation on your next holiday to about £5 a day. You can have a whole house, rather than just a bedroom. And you can go almost anywhere in the world and stay as long as you like, within reason. Welcome to house swapping.

You’re sceptical, I know. I was, too. Our terrace house was too small. Too overflowing with stuff. The 1980s kitchen was too old (and battered). We aren’t in a nice enough neighbourhood. Who would want to stay here? Lots of people, it turned out.

Our first swap was with a pair of retired Australian judges who had lived in the UK decades before. They came to our house first and, over a cup of tea and cake in our living room, we talked about where to find a good pint and the best fish and chips locally, as well as mastering the idiosyncrasies of how to run our dishwasher. They told us about their favourite local parks (warned us about snakes) and when to put out the bins, before we headed for our month-long stay at their house in Perth. It’s these conversations and connections that really make house swapping special.

Yes, we have stayed in some truly extraordinary homes. There was a house in Florida where we watched rocket launches while lounging in the pool; a clapboard cottage with a hot tub in the Stockholm suburbs; and a swanky five-bedroom villa in the south of France that we shared with friends. We couldn’t have afforded any of these if it were not for house swapping. In fact, the swaps themselves are free, but I pay $235 (£177) a year to use Home Exchange, a house swap booking platform, which works out at about £5 a night for the 35 or so nights I used it last year.

The greatest pleasure, however, is in the genuine relationships forged. Through the messages exchanged before and during the swap, friendships are created. You become, however briefly, part of each other’s lives. We have swapped pets and cars, and watered plants along the way. For a week, we became passionately involved in helping pick a summer school for our Basque guests’ kids. Warm welcomes are universal. We’ve had olive oil from the garden grove of a house in Greece and marmalade from Seville. In return, guests at our house can expect to find sparkling wine from Kent, Essex jam and a pile of Cadbury chocolate bars to try – French guests are big fans of the Crunchie.

Even in challenging moments we found friendship, such as when our shower sprang a leak and rained all over the dining table. We had to arrange an emergency repair via video call with our Spanish guests, an Albanian plumber and a UK insurer, all while frantically looking for a reliable phone signal in the countryside. The babel of languages resulted in a tube of silicone being applied and both parties leaving five-star reviews.

I won’t go back to hotels. I have saved tens of thousands of pounds over the past five years, but what has really hooked me is the interactions with hosts and guests that make my holidays more fulfilling. It’s like having a friend everywhere you go.

Q&A – Everything you need to know

Will I be comfortable house swapping?
If you’re precious about the things in your home or anxious about someone sleeping in your bed, a swap is not for you. Likewise, if spending the last day of your holiday cleaning is a deal-breaker.

How do I house swap?
For some sites, you pay a flat annual membership fee (£100-£200) to use a booking platform with thousands of homes. I use Home Exchange because it verifies member identities and offers some guarantees such as damage, theft and cancellation protection. Kindred is a smaller and generally more expensive rival, focused on upmarket homes. Instead of locking you into membership, it charges variable service and cleaning fees.

How does it work?
Classic swaps are simultaneous; you exchange houses on the same dates. But non-direct swaps are also allowed via a points system: you are awarded credits for stays at your house, which you can then spend to stay somewhere else.

What about scams and safety?
Everyone on Home Exchange is a host and a guest, so there is a high degree of trust. Most swaps don’t involve money, so scams are rare. The only exception is a cleaning fee, payable when the stay is at an end. If you’re asked for money in advance, it’s a scam.

How do I pick my accommodation?
This is time-consuming. The website looks similar to Airbnb, where you filter by availability, destination and the type of property you want, but you need to match with a host, too. Hosts and guests both have ratings from previous stays, but some people still like to phone or video call before agreeing to an exchange. Then once the exchange is agreed, there are messages to organise the swap and answer questions such as how to use the cooker or where the bedding is. Many hosts prepare a house manual. Cancellations are rare but do happen, usually due to illness in our experience. The one time it happened to us, Home Exchange helped us find a new host in the same city, and it will pay for a hotel in a true last-minute emergency.

Do I need to own a luxury house?
No. If you have a pool, hot tub or luxurious mansion, you will certainly get more offers, but flats and smaller houses near popular UK destinations (whether that’s Edinburgh, or the Dorset coast) do just as well. Most houses, like ours, are completely ordinary.

Do I need to put my stuff in storage?
Clear a few drawers, perhaps a wardrobe, for guests, and that’s it. Most of the houses on Home Exchange are family homes.

What about cleaning?
You do need to scrub that oven and clean that grout. Cleanliness expectations are high (and should be agreed upfront). We usually spend much of the last day of our holiday cleaning, and return to find our own house absolutely sparkling. Some hosts give you the option of paying a cleaner.

And DIY?
One of the fringe benefits of house swapping is that it has made us look after our house a little better. Sticky door handles and dripping taps need to be dealt with.

What if I break something?
We have broken small things, as have our guests; usually this is simply forgiven. Put more precious items away. For more expensive items, such as a TV or screen door, house swap platforms usually offer a level of cover, but you should make sure you have home insurance.

Will my home insurance cover my house swap?
Ask. Some insurers offer no cover, others offer it for a certain number of exchanges, or you may need to buy a bolt-on. House swapping is still relatively unusual, so persevere to get a clear answer. Insurers that cover holiday lets, such as Pikl, are also useful.

Are there legal restrictions?
Because no money is exchanged, house swapping is not restricted in the same way as Airbnb and similar services – except in Amsterdam, where only reciprocal swaps are allowed (so no paying with points). You do need to check visa rules if looking after someone’s pet – some countries (such as the US) may view this as providing a service and in breach of a visitor visa.

Other house swap sites
Keybento, Kindred, HomeLink

Rory Boland is the editor of Which? Travel

MAFS star Charlene Douglas has revealed the heartbreaking “final days” she spent with her late friend Mel Schilling following her tragic death.

The relationship expert said she was left “devastated” as she opened up about their last moments together.

Mel Schilling has tragically died aged 54 after a brave battle with colon cancer.

The much-loved dating coach was known for her invaluable work on both the Married At First Sight Australia and UK versions of the show.

She worked alongside Charlene Douglas on Married At First Sight UK.

The TV star shared an emotional tribute, reflecting on their close bond and the impact Mel had on her life.

FEARLESS MEL

How Mel Schilling hid cancer hell from legion of fans despite pain off camera

LAST OUTING

Final pictures of late Mel Schilling four months before tragic death

Taking to Instagram, she wrote: “I’m both devastated and heartbroken to hear of the passing of my MAFS queen and friend Mel.

“I had the pleasure of spending time with Mel in her last days and will forever treasure the laughter, the memories and love we had for each other.

“Mel’s love for life, jokes and of course dancing will forever stay in my heart. What I wouldn’t give to be dancing to Beyoncé with you right now.

“Sleep in perfect peace Mel. Love you ♥️”

Mel was previously diagnosed with colon cancer in 2023, which later spread to her lungs and brain.

Her husband Gareth Brisbane announced the heartbreaking news today in an emotional Instagram post.

Alongside touching pictures of Mel, he said: “Melanie Jane Brisbane-Schilling passed away peacefully today, surrounded by love.

“In her final moments, when I thought cancer had taken away her ability to speak, she ushered me closer and whispered a message for Maddie and me that will sustain me for the rest of my life.

“It took all of her remaining strength, and that gesture summed up our wee Melsie perfectly. Even then, her only thought was for Maddie and me.”

He continued: “This is a woman who became a new mum and a TV star at 42 — and nailed both.

“This is a woman who, through two years of chemotherapy, when she could barely lift her head from the pillow, never complained and never stopped showing courage, grace, compassion and empathy, and never missed a day of filming.

“To most of you, she was Mel Schilling — matriarch of MAFS and queen of reality TV. To Maddie and me, she was our wee Melsie: an incredible mum, role model, and soulmate.”

Tributes have poured in for the TV star since the tragic announcement.

Channel 4 hailed Mel as a friend who “radiated joy, warmth and optimism”.

Issuing a statement, it said: “Our thoughts and condolences are, first and foremost, with her family and loved ones.

“We’re privileged to be the channel that is home to Mel’s work, which was at the heart of Married At First Sight‘s phenomenal success, both in the UK and Australia.

“It reflected so much about her – her fierce advocacy for other women, her passion for healthy relationships and her mission to unite people in love.

“For many who work for Channel 4, Mel was not just a colleague but a friend, someone who radiated joy, warmth and optimism, who energized every room she walked into, with humour and positivity.

“Everyone who knew her will miss all this about her and much more. We share in the sorrow that we’re sure many viewers will now feel at this terrible loss.”

A FEMALE rapped has died aged 37 after suffering a heart attack as her devastated friends pay tribute.

Gianina Gheorghiu recently passed away with her close friends revealing she had been battling an alcohol problem.

Going by the stage name Chica Con Canna, the rapper dominated the scene in her country, forging an impressive career.

The news left her friends and fans devastated after her death was announced on March 9.

The Romanian rapper was huge in her local scene, collaborating with stars such as Tony Batrânu, Vladone and Mike Diamondz.

Her close friend Dana Marijauna spoke of her death in a heartbreaking tribute to the musician.

DOLL DRAMA

Pussycat Dolls star Jessica Sutta breaks silence amid bitter band feud

ROCKER GONE

Motorhead guitarist Phil Campbell dead aged 64 after undergoing major operation

Although there is no official confirmation on what caused the heart attack Dana believes she “did not win the fight against alcohol”.

The rapper stated: “With tears in my eyes, with a fantastic love for Chica, who did not win the fight against alcohol.

“A girl with great talent, the best female voice and interpretation in English in the world of Romanian rap, soulful, generous, strong character.

“In vain, alcohol did not take into account all its countless qualities.

“We love you even in a billion years.

“We were supposed to record new songs, but we will do it without physical presence.”

The star’s untimely death has left a void in the Romanian rap industry with a number of artists, including Dana, claiming they had future projects with her.

The rapper confirmed that the projects will go ahead in her memory.

I’ve had my fair share of bad neighbors over the years. Ones who’d stomp their feet above my bedroom at odd hours of the night or who’d block my parking garage without warning every time they had guests over. Talking to friends in L.A., such experiences seem to be the norm rather than the exception — people either have gripes about their neighbors or no feelings at all. A Stanford study showed that the percentage of Americans who frequently interact with their neighbors declined among all age groups from 2017 to 2023.

As someone who doesn’t live near any family, I know that good neighbors can be a godsend. And though I’ve had some questionable ones, I’m lucky to have also had some of the best. Like Joseph, who let me borrow his portable air conditioner — and even installed it — when a heat wave hit Los Angeles. Or Mr. Art, who’d close my garage whenever I was in a hurry and forgot to do it. And my current neighbor, Ms. Cassandra, who always makes sure to save me a plate when she grills her mouthwatering barbecue ribs.

Neighbors can become your friends — or even your family. That’s why we’re looking for Los Angeles’ most neighborly neighbors. And we want you tell us about yours. What’s the most remarkable thing they’ve done for you, big or small? Did they lend you a cup of sugar when you were baking a five-layer cake? Did they offer you a ride to work? Did they babysit for you last minute? Or invite you over for a holiday dinner so you wouldn’t have to spend it alone?

Nominate your favorite neighbor below. We may feature them in a future story.