people

At least 25 people have been killed and dozens others injured in a bus crash in Algeria. The bus plunged into a ravine in the coastal town of Bourmedes, about 50 kilometres from the capital Algiers.

In a summer of Gen Z-driven blockbusters and ancient Greek juggernauts, the 38th entry in the Marvel universe can’t help smelling like your uncle’s sweaty Comic-Con ball cap. At least the core ensemble of “Spider-Man: Brand New Day” is still young, even after four “Spider-Man” movies together in nine years — unlike the mature super squad in last summer’s “The Fantastic Four: First Steps,” who boasted an average age of 42.

“Brand New Day” stars buzzy A-listers Tom Holland and Zendaya as Peter Parker and MJ Jones-Watson, sweethearts estranged after he was forced to save the multiverse by wiping all memories of his existence at the end of 2021’s “Spider-Man: Far From Home”. Adding drama to the couple’s onscreen breakup, the actors recently got married in real life. So kudos to the extras who steal scenes from them in the background, flailing like avant-garde dancers when a vicious mental parasite leaps from grandmothers to joggers to security guards on a quest to find something awful. Choreographed by Nathan Kim, the practical effect looks fantastic.

Fittingly for a film with body-snatching, director Destin Daniel Cretton (“Short Term 12,” “Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings”) has made a story about letting people in. New York City’s brain-barging antagonist (“Stranger Things’” Sadie Sink in a fun character reveal) disrespects personal boundaries. Meanwhile, Peter, scarred by the murder of his dear Aunt May (Marisa Tomei) in 2021’s “Spider-Man: Far From Home,” keeps to himself in fear of revealing his secret identity. Forced to skip college while his former high school friends MJ and Ned (a lovable Jacob Batalon) attend MIT, this Spider-Man endures the rise-and-grind routine of an anonymous gig worker. His phone app pings; he puts on his protective mask and heads out wearily to fight crime. It’s a living. Barely.

Peter’s only physical connection to humanity is via webs and fists. Otherwise, he’s restricted to impersonal helpers — a detective (Liza Colón-Zayas) willing to take his phone calls, an AI assistant (ew) and a network of facial recognition cameras (double ew). He’s so isolated that his closest friend is a frenemy: Jon Bernthal’s Punisher, an equally lonely brute.

Screenwriters Chris McKenna and Erik Sommers add too much padding with their need to include the Hulk (Mark Ruffalo), the new Black Widow (Florence Pugh) and the government’s increasingly radicalized Department of Damage Control before this December’s “Avengers: Doomsday.” Perversely for a film with a two-hour-and-25-minute running time, the climax still feels rushed.

Cretton must shoulder an overburdened franchise. His film is likable as heck but never quite achieves liftoff. The soundtrack’s needle drops of Tame Impala and Bad Bunny add swagger. Better, Cretton seizes small moments to put his stamp on this installment. Just as Zendaya’s aspirationally chill MJ insists she won’t work for some “soulless corporation,” he’s quietly made a humanist super-flick: A shot of agents in black SUVs separating a telekinetic family could come right from the news. Likewise, Cretton allows the Punisher his rage while silently noting that the vigilante’s gun-toting tactics usually make things worse.

Peter’s inner despair gets externalized when he invents a genetic inhibitor neck implant to tamp down his sensitivity. The arachnid hormones in his body are surging, causing his pupils to turn black and his temper to explode. His emotions — and that sticky goo in his wrists — are about to burst. On a related note, between this second spider-puberty and Holland’s supporting turn as a mother-henned Telemachus in Christopher Nolan’s “The Odyssey,” will Hollywood ever allow 30-year-old Holland to play a grown man? I suppose when he proves he can carry his own movie. For now, he keeps squandering his Marvel breaks on whiffs like “Cherry” and “Uncharted.”

At least he’s an earnest, open-faced hero — the best live-action Spider-Man of the bunch. Holland holds onto his buoyancy even as his character battles the blues. His Peter fends off despair by insisting that he’s fine. The bruises on his body disagree. So does the glowing inhibitor on his spine, which seems to ask if we’re too quick to prescribe medication for our problems.

Cretton is the rare former indie filmmaker who pushes himself to stage clever action sequences. The web-slinging scenes in “Brand New Day” are designed to let the audience ride Peter’s mood swings. When he’s up, we soar from girder to girder in a tight POV that allows us to barely make out the tips of his boots. When he’s unsteady, every leap is perilously close to a free fall.

During the best fight scene, Peter takes on a squadron of gravity-defying ninjas in a brawl that takes place as much in the air as on the ground. Brett Pawlak’s camera spins a cartwheel alongside a flying kick, then plunges into the eye of a tornado of bad guys trapped in a web. Overall, there’s too much use of hurled rubble. But I dug how Cretton gooses our spidey senses with dramatic sound effects. The thud of a hammering Hulksmash rattles our seats; later, a cocked rifle is so crisp we perk up like a dog hearing the mailman.

“Brand New Day” manages a few strong images: a dive-bombing pigeon, a cityscape at dusk, a close-up of headstrong MJ getting yanked through the sky, still determined not to let a stranger sweep her off her feet. And, of course, there’s that army of extras each making the most of their five seconds of fame. After order is restored just enough to prod us to a sequel, Cretton circles back to those civilians in an end credits montage of normal New Yorkers hanging out on stoops and playing chess in the park. These faces couldn’t matter less to the plot. But Cretton’s affection for people over pixels is his entire point.

Almost five years ago, “Spider-Man: No Way Home” swung into theaters in the teeth of a COVID-19 surge and did what almost nothing else could that winter: drove cooped-up moviegoers to cinemas and opened to one of the biggest domestic debuts on record, pulling in $260 million.

This weekend, Peter Parker is back — a little older, more world-weary and facing a far less forgiving market.

The genre’s floor has dropped out since then.

Annual box office revenue for superhero movies is down, on average, about $3.5 billion, about half of what it was during the pre-pandemic years of 2017 to 2019, according to data from the FranchiseRe industry newsletter. Sony Pictures is betting that more real-world stunts, a relatable narrative and Spidey’s lasting popularity are enough to put “Spider-Man: Brand New Day” on the other side of that trend.

Whatever the approach, the commercial appetite is there. Pre-sales for the film, which stars Tom Holland and Zendaya, have been robust, and industry tracking estimates an opening weekend haul of at least $195 million in the U.S. and Canada. If that holds, it would be the year’s biggest domestic debut, beating Walt Disney Co. and Pixar’s “Toy Story 5” ($159.7 million). The movie cost about $225 million to produce and is produced by Sony’s Columbia Pictures, Marvel Studios and Pascal Pictures.

“This movie takes a grounded, emotional approach to the story, and I actually believe that’s what audiences are hungry for,” said Tom Rothman, chairman of Sony’s motion picture group. “It’s got all the whiz-bang wow visuals. But at its heart, it’s more a superperson movie, if you will, rather than a superhero movie.”

“Brand New Day” picks up where the last film left off. A spell has erased Peter Parker from the world’s memory — the price of undoing the public exposure of his identity — leaving him a stranger to his best friend, Ned, and to MJ. Without those friendships, he pours himself into his crime-fighting work to stave off his loneliness.

That feeling of being adrift without knowing where to turn is what the filmmakers built the movie around.

“We’re all really isolated from each other,” said Amy Pascal, one of the film’s producers who has overseen the entire franchise. “That kind of longing for connection between people and not knowing how to make it happen and living in a world where we become more and more remote, matched the moment that people are going through.”

The smaller scale was also a reaction to what came before it. “No Way Home” brought back Tobey Maguire and Andrew Garfield in a time-bending multiverse crossover, and there was no topping it.

“That was a movie that was 20 years in the making,” Pascal said. “There was no way to be bigger than that. So we went smaller. We went internal instead of external, and we found the bigness in that.”

Peter Parker’s isolation is what drew director Destin Daniel Cretton, who made 2021’s “Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings” and was an executive producer on the Marvel Television series “Wonder Man.” He said he related to the pain and tragedy the character goes through, and to the idea of a superhero story that felt like it was happening in a real place.

The production’s rule of thumb became trying to execute scenes practically, in front of a lens, wherever possible.

That included a tank chase shot largely on a street in Glasgow, Scotland, on the first day of filming, complete with a rig that let an actor swing with explosions going off behind him. Thousands of people showed up to watch, which was “a big adrenaline rush on day one,” Cretton said.

A later set piece — Spider-Man against a group of red-clad ninjas known as the Hand — was shot at a former prison outside London.

Cretton’s insistence on real locations has an argument behind it. At a moment when audiences want to know what goes into moviemaking and are increasingly unsure whether the myriad images they’re looking at were generated by artificial intelligence, the answer is visible labor.

“Right now, more than ever, I think it’s important for audiences to really feel that people made the thing that they’re watching, and people went through an experience to make the thing they’re watching,” said Cretton, who grew up watching behind-the-scenes segments on his favorite DVDs. “All of that, I think, is just as important as the thing that they’re watching.”

Effects alone don’t carry a superhero movie — or any movie, for that matter — anymore, Cretton said.

“The action can be great, the [visual effects] can be fantastic, the explosions can be huge, but if there isn’t some type of emotional spine that connects with people where they are and what they’re going through, it’s just another big, explosive movie,” he said.

The slump itself isn’t in dispute. Many of Marvel’s newer films haven’t come close to the heights its predecessors once cleared, and this year, movies like Amazon MGM Studios’ “Masters of the Universe” and Warner Bros. and DC Studios’ “Supergirl” underperformed in theaters.

What’s driving it is contested.

“I don’t think it’s fatigue of the genre,” Rothman said. “I think it’s the audience wanting new things and less predictability.”

For Marvel, long treated as the genre’s gold standard, part of the problem was volume; a dense web of interconnected films and TV shows that made casual viewers feel like they had too much homework to do before a new premiere.

The likeliest near-term explanation for that estimated $195-million opening, though, may have less to do with tone than with supply and brand. “Brand New Day” is the first Marvel superhero film since last year’s “The Fantastic Four: First Steps,” and Spider-Man remains one of the most commercially durable characters in the genre.

The calendar is also less accommodating than it was. The latest “Spider-Man” installment opens against Christopher Nolan’s “The Odyssey” and holdovers including “Toy Story 5” — a considerably more crowded field than the thin, pandemic-era slate its predecessor benefited from on the way to $1.9 billion.

And the movie has a second job. With Disney and Marvel’s “Avengers: Doomsday” arriving at the end of the year, “Brand New Day” has to leave audiences wanting it.

“It’s got a lot riding on it,” said Steve Granelli, a teaching professor and division head of communication studies at Northeastern University. “Not just in terms of this being yet another ‘Spider-Man’ film, but also this being a huge storytelling device in the larger [Marvel franchise].”

Which is the tension at the center of the pitch. The filmmaking team went internal on purpose, and built a movie about a young man nobody remembers. It also has to set up the largest external event on Marvel’s calendar.

DETROIT — Two people who attended a prestigious Michigan fine arts school reported conduct of a sexual nature by Jeffrey Epstein, a major donor, according to an investigation that also uncovered dozens of allegations spanning decades against nearly 50 other people.

Interlochen Center for the Arts operates a summer camp and performing arts school that draws students from around the world. It hired a law firm in 2024 to investigate reports of sexual abuse by faculty and staff. Subsequently, it expanded the work to include information about Epstein, the 66-year-old financier who killed himself in jail in 2019.

Interlochen removed Epstein’s name from a lodge after he was convicted of sex offenses in Florida in 2008. The building, renamed the Green Lake Lodge, recently was demolished after the U.S. Justice Department released millions of pages about Epstein that had been compiled over the years.

Sanghavi Law Office says it collected 70 accounts from alumni alleging “physical conduct of a sexual nature” by 47 faculty and staff members affiliated with Interlochen from the 1950s through the 2010s, most before 2000.

“The information gathered during this investigation is, simply, devastating,” the 97-page report says, noting that alumni reported grooming, flirting, sexual touching and sex.

Interlochen said it provided names of people accused of misconduct to Grand Traverse County authorities in northern Michigan to determine what steps, if any, might be taken. None are employed at the school and more than a third are dead.

“We are deeply sorry for the harm experienced by members of our community and extend our apologies to those impacted by abuse at Interlochen,” president Trey Davey and board chair Barrett Rollins said in a letter to the community posted online.

“While the vast majority of the incidents described in the investigation took place decades ago, and reports of abuse at Interlochen have significantly decreased over the past 25 years, the passage of time does not diminish the experiences of our alumni,” they said. “Sexual abuse committed by an adult in a position of power or trust against a student is wrong, then and now.”

Interlochen today “is fundamentally different from the institution described in this report,” Davey and Rollins wrote, with comprehensive safety policies and a changed culture.

Epstein, who played the bassoon, was an Interlochen camper in 1967. He donated more than $400,000 to the school between 1990 and 2003.

Two women told investigators that Epstein engaged in conduct of a sexual nature with them, one of them at the Interlochen lodge that bore his name. He brushed against her body “over her clothes, in a manner in which he indicated was accidental,” according to the report.

Epstein also paid for her to visit him in New York while she was a student. She said “every time he was ‘handsy’ with her, she would freeze until he would stop,” the report states.

The other woman said she gave Epstein a massage at his home, according to the report, and he may have asked her to remove her top. She said she had no further contact with Epstein or his girlfriend, Ghislaine Maxwell.

Outside of the school investigation, at least two Interlochen alumnae made allegations of grooming and abuse against Epstein and Maxwell, according to federal records and media reports. Their identities were not made public.

One testified against Maxwell in 2021 when she was convicted of sex trafficking. It’s unclear whether those women spoke to the law firm hired for the Interlochen investigation.

White writes for the Associated Press.

WASHINGTON — Dr. Anthony Fauci on Wednesday invoked the Fifth Amendment and declined to answer questions from senators in a Republican-led committee hearing about his handling of the COVID-19 pandemic.

The move injects new drama into the lingering tensions between Fauci and Republican lawmakers over his handling of the coronavirus pandemic and accusations he lied about the origins of COVID-19, which he denies.

Fauci was set to answer lawmakers’ questions after being subpoenaed by Republican Sen. Rand Paul of Kentucky, who has long had a fraught relationship with the now-retired infectious-disease expert and led the charge seeking that he testify, again, under oath about his role in containing the pandemic.

Fauci’s decision to invoke the Fifth, at least for now, sidesteps calls for his prosecution if he is accused of lying at Wednesday’s hearing, part of a yearslong campaign for his arrest spearheaded by some Republicans in Congress. But it may also further inflame partisan divides that have festered for years about the origins and handling of the pandemic, which was declared by the World Health Organization in March 2020.

Fauci, who helped lead the nation’s COVID-19 response, has become a target of those frustrations. But to his supporters he is an emblem of sound scientific expertise.

In his opening statement, Fauci said Paul has an “obvious obsession with calling for my prosecution.”

“The only conclusion I can reach is that the sole reason he is calling me before this Committee is to prompt me to say something, anything, that could vindicate his repeated public pledges that I end up, in his words, ‘behind bars,’” Fauci said, adding that while it pains him to do so, he is following his attorney’s advice by taking the Fifth.

Paul releases some of Fauci’s diary

Paul in his opening statement sought to build the case that Fauci helped produce the COVID-19 pandemic by approving funding of research on virus mutations and then covered up his complicity.

“Instead of an apology, you have for years avoided responsibility,” Paul said.

Democratic Sen. Gary Peters of Michigan, the committee’s ranking member, said that Paul’s hearing was a partisan exercise and that the hearing was looking backward instead of focusing on current national security challenges.

Leading up to the hearing, Paul released more than 1,000 pages of Fauci’s personal diary covering the pandemic years. Pointing to some notes about early efforts at understanding how the virus emerged, Paul wrote on the social media platform X that what Fauci “wrote privately and what he told the country are two different stories.”

Some of the diary entries – including Fauci’s uncertainty in the pandemic’s earliest days as scientists around the world raced to understand the new virus and how best to curb it before vaccines could be created – already were reflected in a 2024 memoir and in interviews at the time.

But they have nonetheless drawn attention from people who blame Fauci for mask mandates, school closures and other policies they believe infringed on their rights as hundreds of thousands of people were dying.

Ahead of the hearing, President Trump wrote on social media that he stopped relying on Fauci over the course of the pandemic because he felt Fauci made bad decisions on masks, shutdowns and other issues.

In a statement, Fauci’s attorney David Schertler said Paul’s accusations are “false and disgraceful, and we will examine all options to hold him accountable.”

Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr., a longtime anti-vaccine activist before he entered public office, said Monday that his department gave the diary entries, which were created on a government computer, to the committee. He told a Fox News Channel host that he thought Fauci might lie before the committee, opening him to perjury prosecution despite his preemptive pardon from then-President Joe Biden, a Democrat.

Scientists scrambled to Fauci’s defense ahead of the unusual hearing — the second time the longtime National Institutes of Health scientist has been back before Congress to discuss pandemic origins since leaving the government in 2022. While the COVID-19 pandemic introduced him to millions of Americans, he talked the nation through numerous outbreaks over decades, including HIV, Ebola and the 2001 anthrax attacks, while advising seven presidents.

Some disease experts criticize the accusations against Fauci

In a public letter, more than 150 infectious-disease experts and other scientists wrote that “no credible evidence has been produced to support these absurd charges” and that they are “urging our elected representatives in Congress stop these witch-hunts.”

The expected crux of Wednesday’s hearing was whether NIH-funded research in China may have played a role in how the pandemic started.

Many scientists believe the virus most likely emerged in nature and jumped from animals to people, coming to light when it spread at a wildlife market in the Chinese city of Wuhan. There’s no new scientific information supporting that the virus might instead have leaked from a laboratory, a theory Paul champions. A GOP-led subcommittee that studied the question in 2024 did not find any evidence linking Fauci to wrongdoing.

Fauci has long said publicly that he was open to both theories but that there’s more evidence supporting COVID-19’s natural origins, the way other deadly viruses including coronavirus cousins SARS and MERS jumped into people.

Republicans also have accused Fauci of lying about whether his agency funded what’s known as gain of function research — the practice of enhancing a virus in a lab to study its potential real-world impact — at a lab in Wuhan.

The NIH for years gave grants to a New York nonprofit called EcoHealth Alliance, which used some of the funds to work with a Chinese lab studying coronaviruses commonly carried by bats. But the definition of gain of function covers both general research and especially risky experiments to enhance the ability of potential pandemic viruses to spread or cause severe disease in humans. Fauci has previously stressed he was using the risky experiment definition and that “it would be molecularly impossible” for those bat virus experiments to have turned into the pandemic virus.

Trump, a Republican, last year paused some federally funded gain of function research, and on Tuesday his administration announced new rules to tighten oversight.

Neergaard and Swenson write for the Associated Press. Swenson reported from New York.

A new alert has been issued in Spain

People in Spain have received another urgent warning following a national emergency declaration earlier this week.

Thousands were forced to flee their homes as wildfires tore through sections of the country, although many have since been permitted to return. A new alert from Spain’s national weather agency, posted on X on Wednesday morning, cautions that additional fires could break out. The message, initially published in Spanish, reads: “With the new heatwave, today the fire danger will be very high or extreme in most of the country.

“Take extreme precautions.” Temperatures are forecast to reach 41C today in the central province of Toledo, where residents from nine of 11 evacuated towns were given the all-clear to return home on Tuesday.

Madrid is bracing for highs of 38C, while Zaragoza is predicted to see the mercury climb to 40C, according to the Met Office. Seville, Malaga, and Palma are expected to experience highs of 37C, 33C, and 33C, respectively.

The UK government hasn’t issued any blanket warnings for Spain, though it is advising holidaymakers to remain alert. The Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office (FCDO) continues to urge Brits in wildfire-affected areas to “follow instructions from local authorities and emergency services at all times; check updates from the emergency services; and call 112 if you need emergency help”.

On Tuesday, Spain’s Interior Minister urged people: “Don’t let your guard down” adding that “a spark, a moment of carelessness, or an oversight can change anything”. The FCDO guidance states: “Make sure cigarette ends are properly extinguished, do not light barbecues and do not leave empty bottles behind. You can be heavily fined for not following the rules against lighting outdoor barbecues in forest areas.

“Make sure you know the rules if considering a barbecue.”

One balmy October day in Havana, as the Cuban French sister act Ibeyi plotted the video for “Offerings” — an electro-spiritual ballad from the new album “Offering,” released in June — Lisa-Kaindé Díaz unceremoniously asked her twin Naomi Díaz, to ceremoniously shave her head on camera.

Naomi was accustomed to Lisa-Kaindé’s whims long before they became professional artists. But to take a blade to her sister’s voluminous curls would be a bridge too far.

“I was like, ‘Hell no. I’m not doing that!’” Naomi recalled to The Times, over a Zoom call from Paris.

“As always, when I come with my woo-woo stuff, Naomi is eye rolling like, ‘Girl, what is this s—?’” said Lisa-Kaindé. “But this time around, Naomi was like, ‘OK.’”

The music video ended with Lisa-Kaindé releasing her locks into the sea.

At the core of Ibeyi, which translates to “twins” in the Yoruba language, is the polarity between sisters. Lisa-Kaindé is the bleeding heart who whispers divinity into her lyrics, and Naomi grounds them with the beating pulse of her percussion. They sing in unison, both in tension and harmony. This is the synergy that illuminates their atmospheric approach to the Afro-Cuban jazz tradition.

Born into a musical family in Paris — their mother the French Venezuelan singer Maya Dagnino, their father the Grammy-winning Cuban percussionist Anga Díaz (of Irakere and Buena Vista Social Club) — the 31-year-old sisters jump-started their music careers at 18 when they were discovered by British producer Richard Russell, who also helms the indie powerhouse XL Recordings. After releasing a self-titled debut in 2015, the Díaz sisters appeared in the utopian short film for Beyoncé’s “Lemonade,” then released two more albums under XL: 2017’s “Ash” and 2022’s “Spell31,” which Lisa-Kaindé admitted underperformed expectations.

For “Offering,” they parted with XL and braved the studio as independent artists, inviting new collaborators into the project such as producer Michael Brun (J Balvin, Victoria Monét)and the famed Cuban conguero Pedrito Martinez.

“Things didn’t go the way you wanted them to go, now what does it free?” said Lisa-Kaindé. “It freed a lot of things, in our personal and professional lives,” she added.

The duo returned to their roots in Havana last fall to film the visuals for “Offerings” — as well as other singles “Aset” and “Hurry Hurry,” which were co-directed by Corry Van Rhijn and Roman Pichon Herrera. Family, friends and neighbors filled the frames with dancing and dominoes; their apartments painted in shades of mint, butter yellow and palomino pink, flecked with a patina cultivated by humidity and time.

As Cuba remains a topic of heated debate in the U.S. — or a political football — the Díaz sisters remind listeners that the island nation is still home to over 10 million people, including their relatives, whom they’ve visited regularly since they were little girls.

In 2027, Ibeyi will embark on a North American tour, which kicks off Jan. 27 at the Fillmore in San Francisco and includes a stop at Pacific Electric in Los Angeles on Jan. 29. (“I want everybody to cry, dance and twerk that ass at our shows!” said Naomi.) The Díaz sisters spoke to The Times about their season of upheaval and the recovery that informed their first independent outing yet.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

What has changed for you the most since you released “Spell31?”

Lisa-Kaindé: A lot has changed, personally and in the world. We needed to stop for a little bit and gather our thoughts, reflect on our career and all that we have done. We went from anger to sadness to acceptance. We left XL Recordings, which was our home for 10 years [and] three albums. We also stopped working with Richard Russell, whom we love. He was one of the first people to hear the album. But we really needed to experience something new.

Naomi: We started when we were 18, and now we’re independent and more in control than ever. We tried to find new producers with whom we felt a deep connection. That was like leaving a marriage and going on Tinder and having lots of bad dates… Our sound is so strong that we’d eat them, so we had to find producers whose sound could stay strong with ours.

I hear a lot of heartbreak in this album, but also making peace with that. How do you personally heal from the pain of such endings?

Lisa-Kaindé: We just go through the s—. There’s no other way. I think we should all be courageous to change. Look into the mirror and be like: “Who am I? What do I want to do?” And just live. L-I-V-E. It could also be L-E-A-V-E.

You have a T-shirt that says, “I used to make spells, now I make offerings.” What does that mean to you?

Lisa-Kaindé: “Spell31” [went] hand-in-hand with my high expectations. I felt like we needed to put a spell on the world, so that the world would love us. When “Spell31” didn’t meet the expectations I had, it was painful. I went into a meditation and came out thinking: “I used to make spells. Now I make offerings.” Suddenly it was so obvious I was trying to feed myself from the wrong source of protein. What if I just gave without expecting anything?

Some of your lyrics name orishas from the Yoruba religion, such as Elegua and Olokun. What does your spiritual practice look like?

Lisa-Kaindé: The older we grow, the more religious I’m becoming … but Naomi lives her spirituality in very different ways. For her, twerking in a sweaty club can be one of the most spiritual things ever. She’s getting more and more gangster.

Naomi: It’s how we grew up. We never use the word “spiritual,” but spirituality can be a lot of things. To me, there’s nothing more spiritual than being in [famed Atlanta strip club] Magic City. Some people are gonna light a candle. Everybody can do whatever the f— they want.

Lisa-Kaindé: It’s about living in a way that is aligned with what makes you vibrate, what makes you feel alive.

What was it like for Naomi to cut Lisa’s hair in the video for ‘Offerings?’

Naomi: I was scared that she would not like her reflection. She came [to me] with, “Can you be the one shaving my head?” And I was like, “Hell no. I’m not doing that!” She was like, “Please, [it’s] really important for me as a twin.”

We didn’t have any mirrors. It was tough, but [as] I was doing it, I was like, “I hope she’s gonna love herself.” At one point I looked at her and I was like, “Oh, you’re so beautiful!” And she was like, “If Naomi tells me I look beautiful, I am.” It was really powerful.

In the closing track, ‘Lucky,’ you sing: ‘We can’t manifest for s—; God will always choose for us.’ Be honest, is this in response to those trending videos on social media about manifestation magic?

Lisa-Kaindé: Funny enough, we’ve never talked about this to the press. … But I went kind of cuckoo with the manifestation while making “Spell31.” I started writing three times a day: “It’s gonna do well.” It was the first time I ever did that. And when it didn’t work, I was like, “What do you mean? I did all of the things y’all told me to do!” And that’s why I’m saying we can’t manifest for s—. What happened was exactly what was supposed to happen.

My own outlook changed after a priestess told me to keep an altar to bring offerings to my ancestors. If you want something … you have to give the universe something to work with!

Lisa-Kaindé: You need to give! That doesn’t need to be a religion or whatever. Just be kind. It’s an exchange. There’s always a price — and that doesn’t have to be a terrible thing. It could be a very beautiful thing. I think it’s better if there’s a price. You’re not just demanding the universe to give you something just because you say it enough times.

I sense more thunder in the sounds of ‘Offering,’ especially in Naomi’s percussion. ‘Mosh Pit’ is a storm of trap and acoustic elements. Can you talk about making this song?

Naomi: This was the first song we made for the album. We met Michael Brun, who is Haitian and lives in New York. We wanted a tough energy, we wanted dragon energy in this song. I listen to a lot of rap and trap, so there’s a little more of myself in this. Ibeyi is like a needle between Lisa and I; for 10 years, the needle moved a little more toward Lisa, but now it’s moving toward me. Life is like that.

You shot multiple music videos in Cuba. What made you decide it was time to make these videos in Havana?

Naomi: We recorded the videos in September and October. We wanted to show Cuba because it’s remembering our dad. Home is Paris, London and Havana for us.

Lisa-Kaindé: After having done the visuals from “Spell31” inside the studios … we needed something more personal. We had never done visuals in Cuba, but I think it’s because we’re very protective of Cuba. We’re protective of what the world sees Cuba as, whether it’s the old ladies smoking cigars, or the American cause. We’d go there in the summers [for] our whole lives. We wanted to show something beyond what tourists see. These are the people who actually live there. It’s important to know how people live.

Naomi: We wanted to be with our people and show the real Yoruba, Cuban way of living. Parties full of elderly people, young people … everybody twerking!

This big house party happens in the video for the song ‘Aset.’ Can you tell me about shooting the party scene?

Lisa-Kaindé: Funnily enough, I think our family was more involved behind the scenes. Naomi’s best friend helped with all of the wardrobe because she’s a fashion girlie. One of the directors we’ve known since we were 15 years old, he’s like a brother to us. We also worked with a conguero, like our dad, his name is Karín. We filmed the “Offerings” video in his house. Then we went to La Playita 26, which is not far from our old house, to look at the sea.

Naomi: What’s beautiful is that it was all real. It was also [full of] people we didn’t f— know. But it was raw.

Lisa-Kaindé: The day we filmed “Aset,” when I saw Naomi dance, I was like: “Here we are. Here is that freedom [we’ve been] missing.”

Estuardo Mazariegos and Jose Ugarte, running against each other for a city council seat representing part of South Los Angeles, are immigrants from Latin America who arrived undocumented as children.

Both 40 years old, they grew up in the area and established themselves as community organizers.

And no matter which of them wins election on Nov. 3, it will be a historic change for Council District 9, which has been represented by a Black council member since 1963, even as its demographics shifted to a Latino majority.

Mazariegos and Ugarte both said they are committed to representing all their constituents equally, including Black residents who have expressed concerns about the change.

Jose Ugarte is the front-runner for City Council District 9 after getting 39% of the vote in the June primary.

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

Ugarte, who was until recently a deputy chief of staff to the current council member, Curren Price, got about 39% of the vote in the June primary to 26% for Mazariegos, in a six-candidate field.

Ugarte was born in Oaxaca and is Mazateco — an Indigenous group native to the Mexican state. He has spent most of his life in South L.A., where he was embraced by his Black neighbors and schoolmates. He wants to model himself after Price, who he said is known in the community as the most “pro-Latino Black councilman.”

“I want to be a voice for Black residents in my district,” Ugarte said at his campaign headquarters on Avalon Boulevard. “I want to be called the most pro-Black Latino council member that the city really has.”

Last year, Ugarte agreed to pay a $17,500 fine to the city’s Ethics Commission, later increased to $25,000, for repeatedly failing to disclose outside income he made from his lobbying and consulting firm while also working as a council staffer. He said the issue stemmed from “an unintentional clerical reporting error on my part.”

Mazariegos is the L.A. co-director of the Alliance of Californians for Community Empowerment, a statewide nonprofit that organizes lower-income Black and brown communities for progressive change. Born in Guatemala and brought to the U.S. by his parents, he also was shaped by growing up in racially diverse parts of South L.A. He said he’s reaching out to different sectors of the community, including Black organizations and churches.

Organizing is about “always having open ears to the community,” Mazariegos said while sitting outside Mercado La Paloma, a food hall in the district. “It’s fighting for, honoring the Black legacy and fighting for a Black future, and you do that by building together.”

In his early 20s, Mazariegos pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor charge of carrying a concealed weapon in a vehicle. He said he was holding on to the gun for a friend and that the conviction makes him a better candidate because he can relate to people in the district who have had run-ins with law enforcement.

Council District 9 encompasses the Convention Center, USC and neighborhoods along the Harbor Freeway, including Vermont Square, South Park and Florence-Graham. In a district with the highest poverty rate in the city, residents are concerned about issues including illegal dumping, public safety, a dearth of grocery stores and a sense of being neglected by City Hall.

Price, who has represented the district since 2013, is terming out. He has been fighting corruption charges, with a judge deciding in January that there was enough evidence to move to trial on four counts of voting on matters in which Price had a conflict of interest, five counts of embezzlement and three counts of perjury.

Price said he never intended to do anything wrong and questioned the fairness of a prosecution over what he said was essentially a paperwork error.

The growth of the Latino population in a district that is now nearly 80% Latino has created political tensions for decades, said Manuel Pastor, a USC professor and author of “South Central Dreams: Finding Home and Building Community in South L.A.”

Four years ago, those tensions resurfaced after a recording emerged of a conversation among three Latino city council members and a labor leader that featured racist and disparaging remarks about Black people, Oaxacans and others. The revelations tested a fragile alliance of Black and Latino coalitions that organizers have sought to maintain.

More recently, some Black community leaders expressed concern that a proposal to allow noncitizens to vote in local elections would diminish Black political power. The City Council ended up sending the proposal to a committee for more study.

Pastor noted that Price made an effort to focus on Latino residents, who have grown up alongside Black residents and suffered the same disinvestment in their neighborhoods.

This election, Pastor said, will pit the strength of L.A.’s political establishment against the rising power of the Democratic Socialists of America.

Ugarte’s endorsements include Price and the L.A. County Democratic Party, while Mazariegos has been endorsed by Councilmember Eunisses Hernandez, City Controller Kenneth Mejia and the Democratic Socialists of America’s L.A. chapter, among others.

Through May 27, Ugarte had raised $510,000 in campaign contributions and Mazariegos had raised $254,000.

Ugarte has benefited from nearly $1 million in independent expenditures, which differ from campaign contributions, with Airbnb contributing $302,000 to support his candidacy and the California Apartment Assn. Housing Solutions Committee spending $230,000.

Mazariegos has received support from the political arms of United Teachers Los Angeles as well as his employer, the Alliance of Californians for Community Empowerment Action, which together spent about $118,000.

Jose Ugarte says, “I want to be called the most pro-Black Latino council member that the city really has.”

(Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)

On a recent Sunday morning, Ugarte stopped by services at two predominantly Black churches. At McCoy Memorial Baptist Church in South Park, he accepted a warm hug from longtime Pastor R.A. Williams Jr., who endorsed his candidacy. Ugarte then traveled a few blocks to Experience Christian Ministries, where Pastor Shep Crawford also has endorsed him.

“I met him years ago, boots on the ground, in the streets making changes,” Crawford told the congregation.

That same day, about three miles north at Audio Graph Beer Co., Mazariegos was cheering at a World Cup final watch party that doubled as a fundraiser. He posed for photos with supporters, who wore buttons declaring him “the people’s candidate.” He credited making the runoff election to his years in the community advocating for anti-displacement measures for tenants and lowering the rent cap.

Angie Gonzalez, 22, said Mazariegos earned her support because of his work advocating for tenant rights.

“I like how Estuardo is trying to empower us,” she said.

Odilia Romero, a resident of District 9 and executive director of CIELO, an advocacy group for Indigenous people, said she is not endorsing in the race. But she acknowledged the importance of an Indigenous candidate, four years after the audio leak scandal.

After The Times broke that story, Ugarte said, he secured permits for a march from L.A. Trade Tech to City Hall, where Oaxacans and others rallied.

Ugarte said if he is elected, he’d become the first Indigenous Oaxacan council member. He wants to show anyone critical of immigration — including the Trump administration — that “immigrants are here to build things to make the country better.”

“I want to be a council member that came from another country, that came as an immigrant, that came from an Indigenous state, and that made a name for himself, that [improved] his community,” he said.

Organizing is about “always having open ears to the community,” Estuardo Mazariegos says. “It’s fighting for, honoring the Black legacy and fighting for a Black future, and you do that by building together.”

(Arwen Clemans / Los Angeles Times)

Mazariegos said that while he may not be a political insider, he makes up for it as a “community insider.”

“There’s a lot of mistrust for the status quo right now,” he said. His goal is “making sure that the 9th district has representation that actually fights for it.”

These days, he said, campaigning has turned into an all-day affair, meeting people as he walks with his family around the district.

Mazariegos has in recent months appeared at City Hall to advocate for charter reform, including increasing police accountability, expanding the size of the City Council and advocating for noncitizen voting. None of those measures made the November ballot.

Organizers in the district said that no matter who wins, they intend to hold the new council member accountable.

“We hope that whoever wins this race keeps working-class people and their issues on the forefront,” said Ron Gochez, a longtime district resident and organizer with Union del Barrio, which advocates for immigrants. “We will pressure whoever wins to do the right thing.”

If you get out to Joshua Tree and the night is clear, look up. You’ll see not just the stars, but a massive swath of the Milky Way. It’s a reminder that the vastness is always present, beyond the city’s bright lights. And once dawn comes, the desert performs the same magic: long horizons, unfamiliar landscapes, the creeping feeling that we are small, short-lived creatures on an immense ancient planet. No wonder some people find it unsettling.

Not the characters in Claire Vaye Watkins’ new novel “Yellow Pine,” who embrace the desert in the extreme. They live at the far side of the Mojave Desert where California meets Nevada. Wherefore the pines, you ask? The book’s title is a wry joke — “Yellow Pine” is not a forest, not a tree. It’s a massive solar array slated to be built nearby in the Nevada desert. A ragtag crew of desert dwellers are hoping to stop it, or at least slow down the grinding wheels of capitalism that see the desert merely as an empty space for the taking.

Primary among them is Rose, a 30-something single mom who lives near the end of a very, very long dirt road in a cabin she calls Nothingness Flats. Rose works for an environmental nonprofit that has gone remote because it’s the pandemic; she often spirals at the state of the world. “Sometimes I think I can feel the planet just hemorrhaging under all this greed. Like it’s tectonic,” she laments.

Rampant environmental destruction notwithstanding, the novel kicks off with the joyous return of Miles, the guy who got away. He is an outdoor person, like Rose; has trouble fitting into societal norms, like Rose; and he is an ideal intellectual partner for her, bantering, well-read and ready to engage. Also, they have great sex.

Lest I portray this as a typical summer beach read, Watkins’ writing is in a special, different mode. Her latest books somehow cut past narrative traditions and portray plot and emotion more directly. Another novel might find Rose, after she decides she loves Miles so much that she wants to get pregnant, going to a doctor, getting tests, worrying about being almost 40 and what that means. Rose does none of that — she just suddenly deeply wants a baby, and that desire is vivid in the text. Overexplained storytelling is set aside for something that’s striking and vivid.

When I reached Watkins via Zoom to talk about the book, I asked her how she does it. “Partly it’s an intuition I have about what makes an interesting story,” Watkins says. “A story requires a lot of improbable decisions. Maybe they’re not great decisions, but the person doesn’t know that at the time.”

In “Yellow Pine,” Miles is not without some red flags. In my reviewer’s copy, I found myself scrawling “bad idea!” in the margin, trying to warn Rose about him. It gives the story some tension, and shows that our heroine isn’t perfect — she’s just doing her best under desert skies.

Rose lives in Tecopa, population 120, among people who’ve chosen the isolation, quietude, natural beauty and brutal conditions on purpose. Of the real-life people in these communities, Watkins says, “It’s really tough. The environment is extreme. There are no amenities. There’s no jobs. … I think there’s a refusenik quality to them.”

Nevertheless, some of them come together to try to forestall the installation of the solar array. They point out that “solar farm” is a misnomer because the land — an alluvial plane with Yucca colonies dating back hundreds of years, creosote rhizomatic rings even longer — will be scraped and fenced. What happens to the endangered desert tortoises is awful. These activists are trying every legal recourse and have set up a tiny camp at the edge of the property. Sweetly, and with little hope, they make a small community of people who understand each other and the desert landscape that others see as a blank space on the map.

“In California most of the biodiversity in the state is in the inland deserts, partly because a lot of the other ecosystems have been totally destroyed, you know? It’s a very alive place,” Watkins explains.

In “Yellow Pine,” Rose’s conviction that she should get pregnant grows to a point where she comes up with a wild scheme to make that happen. It is very funny, outsized and unexpected. It’s a small individual resistance to the impending destruction of the desert.

Watkins is very good at making a humorous turn at the end of thoughts, sentences, books. This is her fourth. Her debut, the short story collection “Battleborn” in 2012, set her on a trajectory of accolades; 2021’s “I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness,” was an L.A. Times book prize finalist. She is currently a professor of writing at UC Irvine.

“The thing I love about novels, writing them and reading them, is that it’s private thoughts,” Watkins says. “It’s this cool technology that we’ve come up with to deal with the fact that we don’t know what’s going on in each other’s heads and hearts and how painful that can be.”

She adds that a novelist’s job is to care about the reader. “There’s something really beautiful about, I’m going to do my very best with my part and then I give it to you, and I let it go and I trust you and I respect you,” she says. “I love the world when I’m writing and my books are like acts of love, partly because I really struggle. I’m not walking around loving my fellow man easily.”

When our Zoom began, she apologized for the noises outside — construction, dog walkers, gardeners. I couldn’t hear them at all, but I got the impression that those intrusions and distractions were weighing on her. “I feel like I have a very sensitive instrument,” she says. “I get a little agitated and the pace is really, really different.”

I had been expecting to reach her at an improbable desert outpost, like a Death Valley library with Wi-Fi, but instead reached her in Orange County. It’s for her job, and also as a part-time parent, much easier for amenities. It’s a busy town where there are lots of people, lots of businesses, lots of traffic, the hectic pace of modern life — but still, the desert has its pull. She splits her time between the two locales.

“Yellow Pine” is a testament to her beloved remote corner of the Mojave, its beauties, hardships and endangerments. The place has been an essential part of her creative process and project. “What we do for fun in Tecopa is like, watch the sky. That’s our entertainment, you know?” she says, reflecting on the long moments of silence that stretch out over the evenings. “And it’s like, ‘wow.’”

Last things first: Eve Babitz is a major minor L.A. writer who died five years ago at age 78. She spent nearly a quarter-century as a recluse, having suffered in 1997 a shocking and disfiguring accident while striking a match to light her Tiparillo. Her thin Indian skirt caught fire searing her panty hose into her flesh, leaving her with third-degree burns over more than half her body. She never published again, though many championed her gifts, including me. At the time of her misfortune, I was book editor of the Los Angeles Times. I had long admired her, especially the rollicking and indispensable “Slow Days, Fast Company,” first published in 1977, a charming and insightful series of stories bursting with pluck and sass. I recommended to John Carroll, the then-editor of the paper, that he make her a columnist and urged Babitz to write him directly. She did, and that letter from October 2000 is the last included in “Too L.A.: Letters Never Sent (But Some Were),” a book of letters expertly edited and chosen by Lili Anolik. Babitz tells Carroll that “what the paper needs is some writers that cause such an uproar, people will have to read it in order to stay abreast of the edge.” Babitz knew what she was talking about. She’d been living on that edge since she was a teenager at Hollywood High in the late 1950s.

The posthumous resurrection of Babitz’s writings is most welcome. Yet there is a risk of overpraising her merits. She was an unabashed booster of the glossy L.A. that became synonymous with a rising creative elite whose élan and narcissism she found irresistible.

Lili Anolik makes the case in her perfervid introduction: “The letters are everything you could want” and often “profound” and “frequently brilliant, invariably amusing.” She says they deserve to be put on the short shelf next to Virginia Woolf’s imperishable “A Room of One’s Own” for they are “every bit as candid, every bit as lucid, every bit as brutal, every bit as delicate as Virginia Woolf’s celebrated manifesto.”

If only.

“Too L.A.: Letters Never Sent (But Some Were)” by Eve Babitz

(New York Review Books)

Regrettably, Anolik, who is almost singlehandedly responsible for Babitz’s literary exhumation, has so fallen in love with her subject as to almost blind her to Babitz’s defects, both with respect to her writing and to the life. With two previous books — “Hollywood’s Eve” (2019) and “Didion and Babitz” (2024) — prompted by Anolik’s riveting March 2014 Vanity Fair profile, Anolik has become Babitz’s greatest champion. Now with “Too L.A.,” a title taken from Babitz’s own over-oxygenated writing, she has gathered and edited a trove of letters. They brilliantly reveal Babitz’s eye for the deep shallow as well as explore the porous boundary between the largely self-inflicted injuries of her private life and the glittering sheen of her public persona. Babitz herself, on the strength of these 197 letters, only 30 of which she ever mailed, understood in a way Anolik doesn’t the limitations of her talents, even as she strives to slip the shackles of a mansplaining culture which at almost every turn tried to blunt her ambitions, both artistic and writerly, even as her editors and admirers sought (often with her ardent encouragement) to slip between her sheets.

Eve Babitz was born in 1943 to Hollywood neo-royalty. Her Brooklyn-born father, Sol, was first violinist for both the Los Angeles Philharmonic Symphony and then the 20th Century Fox Studio Orchestra. Sol would ultimately marry Lily Mae Laviolette, a beautiful Cajun Catholic shiksa willing to convert to Judaism. Eve’s godfather was Sol’s good friend Igor Stravinsky. When puberty burst upon her at age 14, Babitz’s blossoming made her a prime candidate for induction by the fast-track girls at Hollywood High who called themselves the Thunderbird Girls and cruised the Sunset Strip in their cool cars, looking for the main chance.

From left, Sol Babitz, Mae Babitz, Mirandi Babitz and author Eve Babitz gather at a launch party for her book “Slow Days, Fast Company” in 1977.

(Photograph by Paul Ruscha; courtesy of Mirandi Babitz / The Huntington Library)

At 20, Babitz posed nude playing chess with the fully clothed Marcel Duchamp to promote Duchamp’s retrospective exhibition at the Pasadena Art Museum. At the time, Babitz was having an affair with the museum’s 32-year-old married director, Walter Hopps, which perhaps explains Babitz’s reluctance to have her face photographed so as not to give the game away to Mrs. Hopps, who attended the opening. A month later, Babitz confides in an (unsent) letter: “Everything’s so fabulous for me now I can’t believe it. There’s nothing like two boyfriends to do it for you every time. There are such fabulous boys around and they take you out on dates and to movies and I feel just like a teenager. (I’m recapturing my lost youth.) I get to get dressed up and I flirt outrageously and put people on and I do things like look soulfully out the window and man it’s just too hoozie for words. … If only all of this could last forever — not that it will, but I can.”

She spent the rest of her life torn between the excitements of everyday life — cruising the hangouts du jour (Barney’s Beanery in the early 1960s where she met many of L.A.’s up-and-coming artists — Ed Kienholz, Billy Al Bengston, Laddie Dill, Peter Alexander, and the Ruscha brothers, Ed and Paul, both of whom she’d bed, Paul becoming an on-again, off-again boyfriend whose bisexuality made for a sometimes tenuous connection; and after seducing Jim Morrison before he became famous and later the Troubadour in the late 1960s which was a happy hunting ground — Steve Martin, Glenn Frey, Don Henley, J.D. Souther, Country Joe Mcdonald, Jackson Browne, to name only a few, and then Ports restaurant where she anchored a corner table) — and the seductions of drugs — uppers, acid (which she seemed to ingest with an alarming frequency), pot, of course, and then by the mid-1970s, tragically, an Everest of cocaine. She had entered what she aptly called the era of “squalid overboogie.”

Eve Babitz and her frequent companion Paul Ruscha celebrate the 1977 release of Babitz’s seminal “Slow Days, Fast Company.”

(Photograph courtesy of Mirandi Babitz / The Huntington Library)

The name-dropping is relentless and if, like me, you have an insatiable appetite for hoovering them up, this volume will not disappoint. Still, there are many pages of vapid jottings — “I cleaned the house, did the laundry, and vowed to quit smoking” — that suggest why Babitz was a failure as a novelist (see her dud “Sex and Rage”) and a superb writer of short stories and essays that stylishly plumbed the depths of her own sensibility precisely in the degree to which she was uninterested in other people.

Nearly 30 years after she stripped to please her married lover and startle the unsuspecting Duchamp, the father of Dada, and eight years after she joined AA in 1982 — the year her beloved father died of Huntington’s disease at age 70 which ultimately would also kill her — and gave up drugs and alcohol and (almost entirely) writing as well, which had always been seen by her as enabled by dope of one kind or another, she boasted that, looking back, “Everybody wanted to be me — they looked at me with yearning faces, and said, ‘Boy, you sure had fun.’ ” She was not entirely wrong. She had struck many admirers both then and now, as the quintessential California girl, a daughter of Dionysus, whose devotion to pleasure was free of misgiving or regret. She detested the East Coast avatars of apocalypse, like Nathanael West, who saw only doom and gloom in sunny L.A. Babitz, by contrast, saw things sunny side up. If Joan Didion was unsettled and made anxious by the hot Santa Anas that regularly kicked up, Babitz luxuriated in them, recalling how she and her sister would as young girls rush to embrace them, spinning madly round and round. In a 1977 unsent letter to Joseph Heller, who had championed her work when she had sent him an unsolicited fan letter after having read “Catch-22” when it was first published and she was barely 20, she declares proudly: “I’m a gossip storyteller who likes L.A. rather than hates it.” She refers to her “shallow nature,” writing that “I feel like an upstream salmon, determined to reach the shallow water, no matter how fast the river is running the other way.”

Eve Babitz, the ultimate Hollywood reveler, on Sunset Boulevard in 1980.

(Los Angeles Times)

On the evidence of these letters, she had two great loves: Ahmet Ertegun, a principal founder of Atlantic Records, and Tom Dowd, renown recording engineer and producer who worked for Ertegun. Of the two, Ertegun had the edge, if for no other reason than he came with buckets of dough, making possible assignations at his regular bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel with limo pickup and dropoff services, and the best champagne and other assorted stimulants. Ertegun was effortlessly elegant and erudite, and there was no one he didn’t know and who wouldn’t return his calls. He was married, age 45, 20 years older than Babitz, when they fell for each other in 1969. She began sleeping with him even as she agreed to profile him for Jann Wenner’s newly launched Rolling Stone. The writing didn’t go well. Wenner wanted a tougher piece than she was willing to write. Ultimately, she abandoned the assignment, claiming (not unreasonably) that she didn’t see how she could write objectively about a man she loved.

Babitz courted danger with heedless bravado and exemplary recklessness. She once had the moxie to rid herself of a would-be rapist: When told not to scream, she said with unimaginable sangfroid: “Why not?” The man bolted. It might be said of Babitz, as Oscar Wilde said of his life, that she spent her talent on her writing and reserved her genius for her life. Sculpting her natural gifts of wit and brazenness into a living artwork dazzled all who came within her orbit. Her lust for life was palpable. The letters are proof. She came at people without fear. She left them without apology. She was the boss of herself. She was the girl who seemed to have it all. The only thing she lacked was inexperience.

Wasserman, a former book editor of the Los Angeles Times, is publisher of Heyday Books, a nonprofit, independent publishing house founded in 1974 in Berkeley. He is the author of “Tell Me Something, Tell Me Anything, Even if It’s a Lie: A Memoir in Essays.”

A federal appeals court has upheld a ruling that in nearly half of U.S. states halted President Trump’s executive order to create a federal list of eligible voters and limit delivery of mail ballots only to people on that list.

The ruling Saturday by judges of the 1st U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals rejected the Trump administration’s effort to move forward with the mail-in voting restrictions in 23 U.S. states that sued ahead of November’s midterm elections.

Trump issued an executive order in March for the director of U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services and the commissioner of the Social Security Administration to create a “state citizenship list” of eligible voters. It also ordered the U.S. Postal Service to deliver mail ballots only to people on that list.

Trump has claimed the proposed changes are necessary safeguards to keep non-U.S. citizens from voting, but state election officials argued they were ripe for abuse and could cause chaos.

Democratic officials in 23 states and the District of Columbia challenged Trump’s order in a lawsuit filed in U.S. District Court in Boston. They argued that Trump’s order was unconstitutional because the states and Congress, not the president, have the authority to set election rules.

U.S. District Court Judge Indira Talwani agreed and halted Trump’s order from being implemented for the Nov. 3 elections, but only in the states that have sued.

Trump’s executive order is part of his ongoing campaign to restrict voting access and raise doubts about the integrity of the election system before the November midterms.

The White House and the Justice Department did not immediately return an email seeking comment Sunday about the court ruling.

Bynum writes for the Associated Press.

Walking down a hallway at UCLA’s Wasserman Football Center earlier this week, I became a believer.

Bouncing hurriedly in my direction was a bright-eyed kid with a huge smile. I didn’t know him. He didn’t know me.

Yet as he passed, he suddenly stuck out his hand for a fist bump, which I was too stunned to ignore, and so I pounded back while wondering.

What just happened?

Then it hit me.

Bob Chesney just happened.

New UCLA football coach Bob Chesney has won over cynics with his unflinching optimism and attention to detail.

(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

The new football coach has infused the completely rebuilt program into a place so energetic, his players run around sharing their inspiration to complete strangers.

“Yeah, we’re gonna win here,” Chesney says.

This shared spirit starts every morning in this building, in the team meeting room, where Chesney orders his players to stand and sing the school fight song as if they are standing on the field after a victory.

The words to the song are displayed on a giant screen, which increasingly isn’t used because most of his players have now learned the song by heart. Those who fail to sing get tagged with a red laser pointer, so pretty much everyone croons.

“I’m not gonna let people put limits on us,” Chesney says. “I’m not gonna let them tell us what we can and can’t do.”

This shared spirit continues deep into the night, as some of his players recently had a pool party at the home of Cori Close, the Bruins national championship women’s basketball coach. She was not teaching them how to swim. She was teaching them how to win.

“People say why here?” Chesney says. “I say, why not here?”

He shows up for my early afternoon visit last week dressed uniquely for a $33.75 million coach of a Big Ten school on the outskirts of Hollywood.

He is dressed like a player. Black shirt, black shorts, thin sheen of sweat adorning his expressive forehead.

“Been lifting weights,” he says.

Are weight machines set aside for the coaches?

“Lifting with the players,” he says. “These guys are telling me what to do.”

UCLA coach Bob Chesney stands on the field in between players and shouts instructions during a spring practice.

(Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times)

Full disclosure: I arranged my visit full of skepticism about this guy that has UCLA fans swooning.

C’mon. Seriously? He’s ready for this? How can he be ready for this?

The son of a small-town high school football coach in Pennsylvania coal country, Chesney had risen from obscurity to … more obscurity. He had previously coached at four different small schools you couldn’t find on a map. Salve Regina? Assumption? What?

This will be Chesney’s first shot under the bright lights. And he is taking that shot with a program whose best shots couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.

The Bruins have not been to the Rose Bowl game in 28 years, and he is going to fix that? They have not won a Rose Bowl game in 41 years, and he was going to change that culture?

The celebrated Chip Kelly couldn’t do it. The emotional Jim Mora Jr. couldn’t do it. The cheerleading Rick Neuheisel couldn’t do it. The cerebral Karl Dorrell couldn’t do it. The affable Bob Toledo thought he had done it until his team inexplicably quit on him just 60 minutes from a berth in the national championship game.

I had covered all of these coaches, hearing their annual promises, seeing their annual collapses, realizing USC had a stranglehold on the college football money and attention in this town, and I had come up with an inescapable conclusion.

What Chesney is trying to do with UCLA football can’t be done.

Then I met him.

The best word to describe initial impressions of the 48-year-old former college safety would be, wow.

He talks fast. He oozes belief. He sells UCLA. He sells himself. He doesn’t shrink from his giant task. He doesn’t rationalize or equivocate his team’s sordid history.

He’s like one of those charming smart kids who never takes no for an answer.

“I feel it,” he says.”I feel it.”

No wonder his recruiting has been phenomenal, ranked seventh nationwide for the class of 2027, a trend that began this summer with 42 transfers, many of whom will start. No wonder he has been recognized by fans while hanging out in West Hollywood or Griffith Observatory or Dodger Stadium, where he’s already sat wide-eyed in a meeting with Dodger manager and UCLA grad Dave Roberts and Sandy Koufax.

He feels it, and the Bruin Nation feels it with him.

“Everybody’s included,” he says. “You wanna be included? C’mon, you’re included.”

As the self-proclaimed driver of the Bruin bandwagon in recent years — only to be derailed by midseason every time — I’ll pass on the inclusion. I’ve got to see it before buying it. But right now, Chesney has worked me up into such a lather that, yeah, I’m believing.

First, Chesney points to his resume, a litany of small schools who accumulated big victories, a dossier that includes only one losing season and none in the last seven years.

His head coaching career started at Division III Salve Regina (Rhode Island), where he turned eight consecutive losing seasons into three straight winning seasons.

“‘You can’t win there, nobody can win there’ is what they said,” Chesney says. “We won there.”

James Madison coach Bob Chesney and running back Wayne Knight celebrate after winning the Sun Belt championship on Dec. 5 in Harrisonburg, Va.

(Robert Simmons / Associated Press)

Then there was Division II Assumption in Massachusetts, where he took a team that had two winning records in 17 years and led them to five consecutive winning records and three straight playoff appearances.

“They said, ‘You can’t do it, nobody can do it,’’’ Chesney says. “We did it.”

Then there was Holy Cross, also in Massachusetts, where he took the team to a record five straight Patriot League championships while advancing as deep as the FCS quarterfinals.

“They told us, ‘The academics are too tough, the tuition is too high, you can’t win there,’’’ Chesney recounts. “We won there.”

Finally there was James Madison in Virginia, where he took a team whose stars had all followed Curt Cignetti to Indiana and still triumphed, leading them to a Cinderella appearance in the College Football Playoff.

“A lot of people doubted it, a lot of people didn’t believe it could work,” Chesney says. “We’ve proved a lot of people wrong throughout the years.”

After his resume, Chesney points to his surroundings. He is more awed by UCLA’s gravitas than any other football coach I can remember. It’s clear he can sell the school because he has such respect for the school.

“Here you’re a handshake away from changing your life … the school has an 8% acceptance rate, you’re walking around this campus with valedictorians and future CEOs and doctors and lawyers,” he says. “You’re surrounded by greatness, you have a chance to breathe this rare air that very few people get a chance to breathe.”

But for Chesney to fill this air with a football championship requires a price. It is a price that, so far, many potential donors have been reluctant to pay. But in today’s college football world, it is the cost of doing business.

Face it, Cignetti couldn’t have changed Indiana’s fortunes so rapidly if it wasn’t for Mark Cuban money. Chesney believes he can do the same thing here … with a little push.

Longtime UCLA donor Angelo Mazzone chipped in $10 million recently, and more such gifts are needed for UCLA to be able to pay the players that bring them a championship.

”There’s a major financial commitment that comes with getting those four- and five-star kids, but we can really turn the tables with that kind of help,” Chesney says. “Every single thing that is needed is here, we just have to make sure we get the support from the people on the outside that we need to actualize our dream.”

UCLA coach Bob Chesney shares his vision for the program during his introductory news conference on Dec. 9.

(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

He’s doing all the right things while chasing that dream.

Even as his bosses are pushing to move the team out of the Rose Bowl to SoFi Stadium, he loves the Rose Bowl, and took his team there for its spring game on a weekend that began with him standing outside the brightly lit marquee with his father and his son in the dark.

“It was one of those moments, I was like, man, the history of this place … to me to play in the Rose Bowl, what an honor and a privilege,” he says.

The game actually drew a decent spring crowd of 10,000-12,000, partially because Chesney had worked so hard at banging the drum. He and his players even brought pizzas to various campus groups in hopes of enlisting support.

“You want to be around this program, you can be around this program,” he says.

Then there’s his opinion of USC. He doesn’t have one. He never mentions them. For a UCLA coach, this is a good thing.

“I guess we’re perceived to be in their shadow, and for whatever reasons we weren’t an option the last couple of years, but look at our recruiting, I know we’re becoming an option for L.A. again,” Chesney says. “I think you can change a lot of people’s opinions on who they want to be rooting for.”

As in all levels of football, it all comes down to the quarterback, and Chesney had his first win by convincing budding star Nico Iamaleava. The kid was roundly criticized in this space for holding out and then walking out on his Tennessee team last year, but he has since grown up, and could be the sort of game-changer that Chesney requires.

“Watching Nico with his athletic ability, his arm, creating plays after the play with his legs, I have very high hopes,” says Chesney.

There are potentially outstanding transfers at half of the positions, and, with some solid returning players — this is a team that beat seventh-ranked Penn State, remember — the Bruins have a decent foundation.

UCLA coach Bob Chesney pats running back Anthony Woods on the helmet during the team’s spring game at the Rose Bowl on May 2.

(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

Throw in a favorable 2026 schedule that doesn’t include Ohio State or Penn State or Washington or Iowa, and one thinks they might even have a chance at making some miracles.

“You’re going to see a different brand of football, one that is united, that is passionate, that is physical, that is tough, that has a lot of fun playing together,” he said.

You’re also going to hear a sound that died in the brief DeShaun Foster era, a sound that has never lasted more than a couple of weeks in the last 30 years.

That rumble is the Bruin football bandwagon. It’s revving up again. The inimitable force that is Bob Chesney wants to include you on the start of its journey.

Let him.

TUCKED away in the mountains of Malaga is a tiny village that was abandoned for five decades.

El Acebuchal was only rediscovered in the late 90s and brought back to life.

The little white-washed village was once used by travelling merchants for hundreds of years as a place to meet and transport goods between the Costa del Sol and Granada.

The village was small and home to around 200 people.

But in 1949, the village was officially closed by the Spanish leader at the time, Francisco Franco.

He believed that those who lived there opposed his regime, so he sent officials in to disperse the village residents.

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It remained a ghost town until 1998 when Antonio Sanchez or ‘El Zumbo’, who once had ancestors in the village, moved there.

He and his family began to rebuild houses where everything was restored by hand.

The village didn’t even have running water or electricity until 2003.

Now, the village has around 30 homes, a chapel and restaurant called Bar El Acebuchal which is actually run by Antonio Sanchez himself.

It’s slightly off the beaten track according to diners, but well-worth it for the food.

Lots of the homes are holiday rentals – there’s also a B&B in the village called ‘The Lost Village el Acebuchal’ which is highly-rated on Tripadvisor.

It has just three rooms along with a roof terrace, seasonal outdoor pool and there are even spa services.

One visitor described it as “a 1950s movie scene” and another described it as a “hideaway”.

The village isn’t overly modern with limited phone signal.

A popular hiking route is between Acebuchal and Frigiliana which stretches on for about eight miles.

Frigiliana is another place to add to the list, as it is considered one of the most beautiful villages in Spain.

It has white-washed buildings, bright blue accents, terracotta tiled rooftops and mosaic streets.

The steep paths are lined with colourful plant pots full of greenery with blooming flowers like the classic Mediterranean pink bougainvillea.

The town was built on top of a hill so it has incredible views of the Costa del Sol and Mediterranean Sea.

Some people don’t need an introduction.

Joe Torre, for one.

You know him. Baseball icon. Hall of Famer. The only big leaguer with 2,000 hits as a player and 2,000 wins as a manager, he steered the New York Yankees to four World Series championships — and the Dodgers to consecutive National League West crowns and NLCS appearances in 2008 and 2009.

So you’re well-versed on Torre’s baseball bonafides, but you might not be aware of the most meaningful part of his legacy: He’s spent the past 24 years helping people who actually would need to be introduced to him.

Kids who are too young to know Torre the player, manager, color commentator — but who can, unfortunately, relate with what he went through when he was their age. Kids who, like him, are growing up afraid and anxious because of domestic violence at home, and who need what Torre didn’t have — somewhere safe to go to for help.

Since 2002, Torre and his wife, Ali, have been behind the expanding the Joe Torre Safe at Home Foundation. Across the nation, they’ve set up safe spaces in schools, specialized classrooms that feel more like living rooms and that are manned by professional counselors trained in domestic violence intervention.

San Francisco Giants assistant manager Ron Washington hugs Joe Torre before a game at Dodger Stadium on May 14.

(Gina Ferazzi/Los Angeles Times)

They’re at schools in New York, Cincinnati, Tahiti and in L.A., at Bellflower Middle/High School and John Adams Middle School, John H. Glenn High and McKinley Elementary School, Palisades Charter High, Santa Monica High, Waite Middle School and Washington Preparatory High.

And they’re open to all, whether you’re a kid experiencing violence or you want to be able to help peers who are.

This past year, the foundation says it reached more than 28,000 students. And since it began, more than 425,000 young people, families, schools, and communities.

These Safe at Home spaces are all named “Margaret’s Place,” in honor of Joe’s mom, who was for years the victim of his father’s violent ire.

“It’s a tough subject to talk about,” Joe Torre said. “But you can’t run away from it.”

He did, though. He’s 85 now, but until he was 54, Torre didn’t reveal that baseball had been his refuge when he was growing up. He didn’t tell anyone that when he was a kid, if he saw his dad’s car in front of his house, Joe would go to a friend’s house and wait until he left for his job as a New York police detective. Joe didn’t share memories like he would later, of seeing his big sister, armed with a knife, standing between their mother and their father, who was going for his pistol.

St. Louis Cardinals third baseman Joe Torre poses swinging a bat prior to a game in 1971.

(Dave Pickoff / Associated Press)

He didn’t recognize what those traumatic experiences he’d tried to bury did to him, not until he started to talk about them.

“I thought I was born with this shyness and this nervousness,” Torre said before a Dodgers game in May, when the club introduced him and Ali and players and coaches wore T-shirts during batting practice that read: “Everyone deserves to be safe at home.”

“During my playing career,” Torre continued, “if we lost a game and I didn’t get any hits, I’d beat myself up. I was fortunate, I had a good career, but there was always something missing. I really probably could have enjoyed it a lot more than I did.”

That didn’t change until 1995, when he started talking about the domestic violence he experienced. He was surprised, he said, to find himself sharing his story, opening up for the first time at a “Life Success” seminar in Cincinnati, Ali’s hometown.

“Ali, she says, ‘You want to go to this Life Success symposium with me?’” Joe said. “And she’s eight months pregnant with our daughter and I’m not about to say no to anything she asks me to go. So we go in and they separate you, and they put you in groups of six strangers — and I’d just been named manager of the Yankees, so I’m very self-conscious.

“But after a day or so, you’re in it, you know? And then we went home and I called my sisters and asked them questions. Because they always tried to protect me, so I had to drag it out of them … ‘Did dad hit mom?’

“The biggest thing for me was knowing that my dad bringing fear down on the home was what caused my feelings that I was embarrassed to have. Once I went through that, I was able to go deeper.”

Yankees manager Joe Torre bumps fists with catcher Jorge Posada after a win in April 2004.

(Brian Kersey / Associated Press)

Speaking about what was previously unspeakable helped him cope with his trauma. He said it made him a more empathetic manager and a more confident man. It also made him want to speak out publicly and to encourage others to do the same, to break the cycle of silence.

So they’re getting the word out at — where else? — ballparks. There was the stop at Dodger Stadium in May, and before that, in 2025, seven major league teams had activations at games, as did 63 minor league clubs who hosted a “Safe At Home Awareness Game.”

Because often we do need an introduction, to connect kids with people who can keep them safe, who can assure them they’re not the only ones in their position.

“He’s talked about this many times: If he had access to a program like Margaret’s Place, he wouldn’t have felt like he had to carry this burden alone,” said Rose Robles, the foundation’s senior director of programs. “That was one thing he’s really stressed, he felt he was the only one that was going through this.

“And he would have had some options, some choices for how to respond to what he was experiencing and how to understand it. One thing that we say is that violence thrives in silence, and that is basically what he was experiencing.”

Forty-four percent of the kids Margaret’s Place counselors helped in 2024-25 were dealing with some form of violence at home. Twenty-seven percent have experienced some form of relationship or dating violence. They also help kids who’ve been exposed to community violence or other traumatic events, or who are grieving a traumatic loss.

Dodgers manager Joe Torre pauses for a moment while answering questions in August 2010.

(Jae C. Hong / Associated Press)

At Bellflower Middle and High School, Principal Jessica Cummings said a Teen Dating Violence Awareness Week and parent workshops focused on fostering healthy relationships increased awareness on her campus.

“We are grateful,” she wrote in an email, “for this partnership and the positive impact it has had.”

Of the students surveyed after receiving services, Safe at Home indicated that 99% reported feeling safer and 93% said they used the tools they learned in counseling.

Torre has absorbed decades of anecdotal feedback too — the knowing nods he sees in the crowd when he’s talked to groups of kids about this, the cameraman who slipped him $20 to put toward the foundation, the interviewer who shared his account of having grown up in a violent household.

“Anyone can become a victim,” Ali Torre said, “Our goal is to intervene and prevent. There are little boys we can have conversations with: ‘You don’t have to repeat the cycle.’ To little girls, ‘There’s an option for you…’

“And Joe has opened a lot of doors for us.”

When you think of Joe Torre, it’s as a former Dodgers skipper. A nine-time All-Star and the 1971 National League Most Valuable Player.

You should also think of him as a champion of children who now know that they aren’t alone, and that they have people who will go to bat for them.

Organising a day trip doesn’t have to be too strenuous as you can find so many inspirations online. Now have you ever visited these three villages which are just as pretty as the Cotswolds?

We all know the Cotswolds is popular for its storybook English charm. With rolling hills, honey-coloured cottages and picturesque villages like Castle Combe to enjoy, it’s understandable why many Brits vacate there for a weekend or day trip.

Now if you’ve explored the entire region, which lies about 90 miles from London, it can be understandable to turn your interest elsewhere. Luckily if you want the same level of charm and beauty, there are many villages in England which are “just as pretty as the Cotswolds”. One woman who often shares the “best London and global tips” named three destinations you must visit this weekend.

On TikTok, Shruti Priya began her post: “Villages in England that just as pretty as the Cotswolds.”

She named Lavenham (Suffolk), Wherwell (Hampshire) and Amberley (West Sussex) as the top places to visit.

What To Do in Lavenham, Wherwall and Amberley Explained

Lavenham is a great location if you’re a huge fan of the Tudors. With architecture dating back to the 1400s, this village serves as one of Britain’s finest surviving medieval villages. It boasts more than 300 listed timber-framed buildings and even gained fame for serving as a filming location for JK Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Getting to Lavenham by car takes just under two hours via the M11 – if you’re coming from London, while a train from Liverpool Street can get you there in roughly an hour. Driving may well be the more practical choice, as Lavenham has no direct train station.

Picture-Perfect Hampshire and West Sussex Villages to Visit

Now if you’re visiting Wherwell, you can wander the stunning streets and enjoy this quintessential village which is renowned for its beautifully preserved, timber-framed thatched cottages. It also offers breathtaking views along the River Test, situated approximately 3 miles south of the town of Andover.

So if you’re leaving from London again, this should take roughly 1 hour and a half. Alternatively, you can hop on a direct train from Clapham Junction to Winchester, which should take around 50 minutes.

And finally, Shruti’s last choice was West Sussex. History fans will adore the Amberley Castle which is a 900-year-old fortress with high stone walls, and a portcullis. It now operates as a luxury hotel and wedding venue. From there you can soak up the natural beauty along the River Arun too.

Meanwhile you must not forget visiting the Amberley Museum.

This journey from London by car is also quite manageable, coming in at just under 2 hours and covering 57.4 miles. By train, you’re looking at roughly an hour for a one-way trip.

Since Shruti’s suggestions were shared on social media, many people rushed to the comments section. One said: “Great looking places,” while another added: “Can’t wait to visit these beautiful places with my baby.”

Someone else commented: “Wherwell is beautiful, I knew someone who lived there in a beautiful cottage.”

AMARILLO, Texas — When Gina Hinojosa, the Democratic nominee for Texas governor, began her campaign last year, candidates weren’t talking about — or hearing about — data centers that power artificial intelligence.

But with barely three months until November’s contest, the perceived threat to rural life, ranchland and dwindling water supplies could become a defining issue for her long-shot challenge to Republican Gov. Greg Abbott, dividing conservative rural areas that have traditionally served as a counterweight to Democrats’ urban strongholds.

The backlash to energy-guzzling server warehouses is also shaping other statewide campaigns from Arizona to Ohio to New York, and even giving Democrats a glimmer of hope in Texas, where Republicans have dominated for three decades.

“There is this little issue that I recently started hearing about that I wanted to tell you about, in case you don’t know,” Hinojosa quipped to a Democratic Party-organized crowd of about 160 seated on fold-out chairs at an Amarillo social club in Texas’ panhandle. “It’s this issue of data centers.”

The crowd booed, and she went on: “They are owned by the richest men in the world. We’re all footing the bill. There are no rules. It is the wild west of data centers.”

The fast growth of massive data centers has already upended races for local offices across the country, often uniting conservatives and liberals in revolting against projects in their midst.

People don’t like the secrecy surrounding the projects or the prospect of air, noise, water and light pollution. They fear electric bills going up, wells going dry and losing open space, farmland or forest.

Now the ripple effects have spread to top-of-the-ticket races, where incumbents and challengers are trying to show that they hear an angry electorate.

In Ohio, Democratic nominee Sherrod Brown aired a television advertisement attacking Republican U.S. Sen. Jon Husted as the “face of data centers in Ohio” as people gather signatures for a statewide referendum to outright ban their construction.

In Wisconsin, a Democratic candidate for governor, Francesca Hong, is pledging to “tax the rich, fund our schools and stop AI data centers” as she campaigns for her party’s nomination in a crowded primary.

In Pennsylvania, Democratic Gov. Josh Shapiro is facing heat from some voters who feel like he’s been too welcoming to tech behemoths. Sam Burleigh, a Democrat whose rural community is fighting off data center projects, accused Shapiro of “allowing these data centers to come in and take over acres and acres of prime farmland.”

Texas is fertile ground for data centers

Any political unrest may be felt most acutely in Texas.

The state is poised to overtake northern Virginia as the largest global data center market by 2030, according to a report by commercial real estate giant JLL. It has lots of land, lots of energy and a friendly regulatory environment under Republican leadership.

In rural west Texas and its panhandle, gargantuan data centers are under construction, including one near Amarillo touted as the world’s largest. Some come with designs for natural gas-fired turbines to power them.

Rumors are flying about others popping up — Google, which is building four data centers in northwest Texas, sponsored moderated conversations with officials and business elite in Lubbock and Amarillo in recent weeks — and it is sowing an outcry across small cities, tiny towns and sprawling ranches where people vote overwhelmingly Republican.

Google says its investments are advancing American innovation, fortifying cybersecurity and boosting energy capacity, while President Trump has made data centers a top priority to help the U.S. compete against China for AI superiority.

But tech giants and developers can be secretive about their plans, making it impossible to know what will be built or what sort of pollution they’ll create, critics say. Some worry that data centers will destroy rural Texas’ low cost of living and sully sunsets and sweeping views that stretch toward the horizon.

Others say construction and an influx of workers are already causing havoc for ranchers and towns, driving up rents, snapping up farmland, illuminating the night sky, clogging roads and turning parts of rural Texas into industrial zones.

Opposition crosses partisan divide

Democrats are prominent among the data center critics, but so are Republicans, including Texas’ sitting agriculture commissioner, Sid Miller. They say there are many more Republicans who are quieter because they fear publicly opposing their governor and party.

“They’re upset with Greg Abbott,” said Suzanne Bellsnyder, a former Republican activist from Spearman who writes a syndicated column that advocates for rural Texas. “Whether that translates into voting against him, I don’t know.”

Abbott has aggressively advocated for big projects in Texas and, in November, he helped make Google’s announcement of a $40-billion investment there, saying, “Texas is the epicenter of AI development.”

Compounding that, Texas counties don’t have zoning authority — precisely the local land planning authority that communities around the country are increasingly using to fight off data centers.

Abbott seems to recognize that data centers are dividing his base. In recent weeks, he ordered regulators to take steps to ensure Texans weren’t paying higher electricity bills because of data centers and promised to push a legislative agenda next year to impose regulations on data centers.

At an East Texas campaign stop, Abbott said that includes taking away the state’s billion-dollar-plus-per-year tax break and preventing data centers from being built in “rural Texas neighborhoods.”

Hinojosa and others derided Abbott’s words about “rural Texas neighborhoods” as meaningless — “doublespeak that makes no sense to anyone,” Hinojosa said — and lacking urgency or seriousness.

“Now we have this gold rush of data centers in our communities,” Hinojosa said in an interview, adding that “people want a say, and I think that’s fair.”

As governor, she said she’d block a permit for a data center if it wasn’t a good deal for Texans or residents hadn’t gotten a say in the matter.

Abbott tries to soothe concerns

Abbott’s campaign season turnabout on data centers doesn’t seem to have soothed many.

Of great concern is the prospect that data centers will consume massive amounts of water and worsen drought conditions for ranchers and farmers in a state where water shortages already crippled the sugar cane industry.

“Oh, I guarantee you, it’s on everybody’s mind,” said Giles Dalby, a cattle rancher and a Republican county commissioner in west Texas.

Dalby, who raises Angus and Brangus cattle on ranchland that’s been in his family for 125 years, pointed to fast-growing cities where water authorities have had to go to greater lengths to procure water, including the “water wars” between San Antonio and ranchers several years ago.

Texas is increasingly steamrolling over landowner rights in the quest for public water, Dalby said, and that could mean that data centers get in line ahead of ranchers when shortages or rationing worsen.

Clayton Tucker, a rancher and the Democratic nominee for state agriculture commissioner, said his campaign events are consumed by talk of data centers. It doesn’t matter whether he’s meeting with Democrats or Republicans.

“This is the most cross-partisan issue I’ve ever seen in my life,” Tucker said.

Meanwhile, protest groups are springing up, including one in Lubbock that is led by Republicans. The founders, Stephen Sanders and Hallie Bertrand, like some other Republican opponents of data centers, say it’s possible or even certain they won’t vote for Abbott, although they may not necessarily vote for Hinojosa.

There is still time for Abbott to push through major legislation before the election and “be a hero,” Sanders said.

The big question is whether enough rural voters will turn against Abbott to give Hinojosa a shot. It’s hard to tell, Bertrand said, especially when some know nothing about the issue.

“They’ll just hit that button, Republican all the way down,” Bertrand said. “But I think it’s a step towards something that we have not seen in Texas in a long time, with people on the right switching to the left. Or scooting a little closer to the middle, maybe.”

Levy writes for the Associated Press.

NEW YORK — Miguel Rojas’ off day in Washington started early. Before visiting the White House, he and fellow World Series hero Will Klein and manager Dave Roberts met with members of Congress on Thursday morning.

“Other than going to the White House, there were a lot of people from California, senators from California that are not just people who work for the government, but they’re Dodgers fans as well,” Rojas said Friday before the Dodgers’ series opener against the Mets. “So it’s pretty cool to give people that watch games and support us throughout the year [an opportunity] to get to see us.”

Sen. Alex Padilla (D-Calif.) posted on X, “Think we can do this every year, @Dodgers?” with three photos — one of himself with their back-to-back World Series trophies, another posing with a World Series ring on his finger, and a group shot that included Rojas, Roberts, Klein and Dodgers president Stan Kasten.

Rep. Luz Rivas (D-North Hollywood), whose district includes several San Fernando Valley neighborhoods, posted on social media that she thanked Rojas for hitting his tying home run in Game 7of the World Series.

“Thank you to Miguel and the team for stopping by Capitol Hill,” she posted on X. “We can’t wait to welcome them back again next year (with a THIRD trophy, perhaps?…).”

The Dodgers’ visit to the White House on Thursday frustrated the portion of their fan base that wanted their team to stand up against the president’s anti-immigration policies.

Only two players on the active roster who were part of the 2025 World Series team did not attend: shortstop Mookie Betts, who told reporters he’d rather spend time with his family, and reliever Edgardo Henriquez, who declined to comment via Dodgers PR.

“This is something that I don’t really think about [being] political,” Rojas said of visiting Capitol Hill and the White House. “…I’m representing the Dodgers, and I’m going to these events just because I’m part of the Dodgers, and the Dodgers are deciding to go there. And I feel, as a professional, your job doesn’t just stop when the game is over. You have to do some things outside the field that sometimes are tied to success and to the things that you do on the field. So, for me, it’s a privilege to get the opportunity to go to a place where you will never be if you don’t have success in sports.”

Roberts, who has also talked about separating the visit from politics, kept his review brief.

“It was good,” he said. “It was an honor to be there.”

Ohtani update

Dodgers two-way star Shohei Ohtani is scheduled to throw a bullpen session Saturday, his second since receiving an injection in his left knee at the beginning of the All-Star break.

“That’s the beauty of where we’re at right now,” Roberts said. “We’re not going to push him. There’s constant conversation going on each day. But the main thing is with Shohei and this pitching thing is to remain nimble.”

Even if Ohtani’s bullpen goes well, Roberts said he probably won’t be ready to return to the rotation next week.

“That’s too early,” Roberts said. “I feel good that it won’t be next week.”

Los Angeles City Councilmember Nithya Raman, who is running for mayor against incumbent Karen Bass, seized on significant decreases in street homelessness in her district Friday while blasting increases citywide.

Street homelessness — people living outdoors or in their vehicles — went down by 49% in Raman’s district compared to the previous year, she said at a press conference Friday.

Citywide, street homelessness increased nearly 8%, while overall homelessness, which includes those living in shelters and other temporary facilities, increased 3.4%, according to numbers from the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority’s January point-in-time count that were released Friday.

The contrast between her district and the city overall offered Raman an angle to present herself as more effectively handling the homelessness crisis than Bass.

An estimated 45,194 homeless people live in the city, with about 36% of them in shelters, according to LAHSA.

“Far fewer people living outside. Far more people indoors,” Raman, who has served on the council since 2020 and is chair of the City Council’s housing and homelessness committee, said at the press conference. “As mayor, that is the approach, and the results, that I want to deliver citywide.”

The numbers across the city were a setback for Bass, who has made homelessness one of her signature issues and previously touted two straight years of drops in street homelessness.

Raman cited her office’s homelessness team and their “aggressive interventionist” approach as reasons her district — which extends from Los Feliz and Silver Lake into Studio City, Sherman Oaks and other parts of the San Fernando Valley — did not suffer the same increases as other parts of the city.

She said her team is very familiar with homeless individuals in the district and knows many by name. The team tracks homeless encampments on a map and makes sure that empty shelter beds are filled, she said.

Bass’ campaign said Raman was attacking the mayor’s Inside Safe program, which moves homeless people from the streets to shelter and motel beds, at the same time that it contributed to the decreases in her district.

Raman has critiqued Inside Safe as too costly and insufficiently transparent.

“Nithya Raman is taking credit for the results of Inside Safe while campaigning against it,” Alex Stack, a spokesperson for Bass’ campaign, said in a statement. “While Raman takes credit for the City’s work in her district, ignoring the fact that she’s the Chair of the Homelessness & Housing Committee for ALL of Los Angeles, Mayor Bass is working to move our city forward and address years of neglect.”

Raman responded to those critiques at her press conference, saying that her district only had three Inside Safe operations over the past four years — fewer than some other districts.

She deflected when asked Friday about her responsibility for citywide homelessness, as chair of the city’s housing and homelessness committee.

“Council can pass legislation … move motions forward, but it is the mayor that has charge of the implementation and outcomes,” she said.

Citywide, Inside Safe has moved more than 6,000 people into hotels, motels and other types of interim housing since Bass took office in December 2022. But by May 31, 41% of those people had returned to homelessness, according to LAHSA figures collected separately from this year’s homeless count.

Bass attributed the citywide homelessness increases in part to funding cuts by the state and federal government. She also said the county has not provided adequate mental health or substance counseling services.

“This crisis was ignored by city leaders for decades, it’s only now that we’ve seen a historic decline,” she said in a statement Thursday. “I will never stop fighting until we end street homelessness, because no Angeleno should be sleeping on the street.”

Times staff writer Doug Smith contributed to this report.

July 24 (UPI) — More than 200,000 people fled their homes on Friday in fear of powerful wildfires tearing through Spain and France.

Spanish authorities declared a national emergency as three blazes burning near Madrid merged into one, forcing some 60,000 people from their homes.

In France, 141,000 people were evacuated from the regions of Gironde and Landes.

“This is the worst wildfire in our region’s history,” Madrid’s regional leader, Isabel Díaz Ayuso, told reporters.

France’s Interior Minister, Laurent Nunez, said 50 firefighters had been injured fighting the wildfire.

“We have never seen a convective fire of this magnitude,” Nunez told TF1.

“We are going to reorganize our response so we can fight it from the ground and prevent it from advancing toward Bordeaux,” he added.

In Madrid, firefighters said the blaze is beyond their control, BBC reported.

“The wildfire is at its peak and is currently beyond the capacity of firefighters to contain,” Carlos Novillo, emergency management chief in Madrid, told reporters.

“It’s not possible to attack the fire in that area, so defensive measures are being taken,” he added.

French President Emmanuel Macron said the country requested support from the European Union.

“We will soon be able to count on reinforcements from two Croatian Canadair aircraft, two Portuguese Air Tractor planes, as well as two heavy Black Hawk helicopters from the Czech Republic and Slovakia,” Macron wrote on X. “This concrete, swift, and operational solidarity is a precious strength in the ordeal.”

The president said the situation remains “under very high tension.”

“My thoughts go out to our firefighters and the rescue forces who are battling relentlessly on the fire front,” Macron added. “Their courage commands respect.”

What’s done is done.

The Dodgers went to the White House on Thursday and met with President Trump for the second year in a row, following back-to-back World Series championships.

At the time of their visit, the Dodgers had the best record in Major League Baseball with 65 wins and 38 losses. Winning three titles in a row won’t be easy, but assuming they pull off another victory in October, here are five reasons the Dodgers should not go back to the White House next year.

What’s the point?

Ceremonial visits have been going on for years, and both Democratic and Republican presidents have embraced the tradition with athletes from various sports.

If you’d like to know why I didn’t have anything to say in 2021, when the Dodgers visited President Biden at the White House, that’s a good question.

I didn’t dwell on it at the time because I think such visits are kind of ho-hum. But now we’ve had three visits in five years, and in my head, this hammers home the point that baseball players have nothing to gain from a visit. They’re baseball players, and as such, there is no higher honor than winning the World Series.

I like baseball, but it’s not like these guys are astronauts, just back from the moon.

If the Dodgers want to mark their achievement and honor the game of baseball in the nation’s capital, fine. They should go to the Smithsonian as a team and visit the display where Jackie Robinson’s jersey is enshrined.

They’re being put in an awkward position

As Dodgers shortstop Mookie Betts put it in saying that he wouldn’t join his teammates, he couldn’t win either way.

“If I do” go, he said, “people are gonna hate me. If I don’t, people are gonna hate me.”

That’s an exaggeration, but I get his point. Dodger utility man Kiké Hernandez said he wasn’t going, either, explaining that he was busy rehabbing an injury.

The Dodgers should take the pressure off the players by politely declining an invitation to visit.

Besides, people like baseball because it’s an escape, a distraction, a diversion. You want to have a clear head as you try to remember why you willingly packed up your kids and paid $400 for lousy seats and food at Dodger Stadium to watch Kyle Tucker, at $60 million a year, foul out to the catcher.

You do not want to think about the American political cesspool as you watch the Dodgers rally from behind, win in late innings, and inch ever closer to going back to the White House again next year.

They’re being used

The players were apparently told they could make their own decision about whether to go to the White House.

What they should have been told was that they were being exploited.

When a president hosts a team at the White House, there is only one reason.

It’s a photo op.

Not for the team, but for the president.

Baseball might no longer be the national pastime, but it’s a part of American culture, with fans of every political stripe in every state. There’s kind of a folksy quality in the manufactured banter between a president and the ballplayers. He can fawn over them and joke with them and look more like a regular guy — one of the boys.

“This is really a special team,” Trump said during the Dodger visit. “It’s special winners. They’re champions, and just unbelievable.”

Yeah, we knew that when they beat the Blue Jays.

Nine months ago.

Too much ring kissing is a turnoff

If you are going to go, can you at least not embarrass yourself?

Dodgers Chairman Mark Walter handed Trump a Dodgers jersey and World Series ring at the White House. Somehow, he managed to restrain himself from bending to one knee and kissing the president’s ring.

“Thank you for welcoming us today, Mr. President,” Walter said. “We’re proud of that team and what it has achieved, and we hope to be back here again next year.”

As The Times’ Maddie Lee noted, this was just days after Bloomberg reported that “two insurance companies controlled by Walter, as well as Guggenheim Partners, where Walter is chief executive, are being investigated by federal prosecutors for potential financial improprieties.”

“No charges have been filed,” Lee wrote. “Representatives from the parent company of the insurance firms as well as from TWC Global — the Walter business empire that controls his sporting investments, including the Dodgers and Lakers — have told reporters they are cooperating with the investigation.”

So that’s another problem with the Dodgers’ visit.

How can we not wonder about ulterior motives?

It’s hard to keep track of who’s kissing whose ring.

Politics is unavoidable

The Dodger brain trust has attempted to cast White House visits as an exercise in tradition, not politics.

“Like I’ve always said, my company line, my personal line is I hope that we get this invitation every year,” Dodgers manager Dave Roberts said before the visit. “Because that’s the goal: to win a championship, to get this invitation to the White House. And I’m not a politician, and I’m doing something that teams have done for decades. And so that’s where I stand, really. I’m a baseball coach. That’s what I do.”

That couldn’t be more naive.

The Dodgers love to project a wholesome, family-friendly essence. But American discourse has not been more vulgar, polarizing or politicized in my lifetime, and I’m reminded of the line, “Lie down with dogs, get up with fleas.”

In Trump’s world, there are only two kinds of people: friends and foes. The Dodgers are now friends, and when Venezuelan World Series hero Miguel Rojas was singled out by Trump, who launched an unprovoked attack on his country, that reeked of calculated political staging.

The White House itself has been a staging ground for political assaults on the Dodgers’ home state and on immigrants who come from regions of the world that are home to some of the Dodger players. Election integrity has been politicized. The Supreme Court has been politicized. The water quality in the reflecting pool has been politicized. And at a White House cage fight, a former first lady was brazenly disparaged.

You can’t peel off your baseball uniform, put on your wedding suit, and stand there with the president, smiling and shaking hands and being voluntarily patronized, without having made a political statement.

Better to stick to what you know best.

And besides.

Trump is a Yankees fan.

steve.lopez@latimes.com

A UK beach is drawing crowds as people think it’s so gorgeous. In fact, many say it’s just as pretty as “being in Greece”, and they have shared just how stunning they think it is

There are so many beautiful beaches in the UK, but a certain beauty spot has been drawing in crowds due to its natural splendour. Many admit they think it’s a totally gorgeous spot, and they have even compared it to being in stunning locations like Greece.

Footage of the stunning area in Pembrokeshire, Wales, has taken the internet by storm, enchanting countless viewers with its spectacular scenery. It’s been hailed as so picturesque – with its crystal-clear waters and jaw-dropping views – that many reckon it’s “just like being in Greece” and the location has since gone viral.

It’s not the only Welsh beach to have caught people’s eye recently either. Previously, another beach in Wales was deemed to be one of the best in the UK.

On TikTok, Wander Wales posted: “When you realise this isn’t Greece… it’s Wales.” The clip, shared alongside the caption, showed off the incredible surroundings in all their glory.

What is it like?

The view from Barafundle Bay features gleaming sands, turquoise waters and utterly breathtaking scenery. On a glorious day, it’s hard to imagine anywhere more spectacular to spend your time.

Since being uploaded, the video has racked up thousands of views, with dozens of enthusiastic comments flooding in. Many viewers were quick to agree that the location is truly magical.

One wrote: “Sat there now. Best beach I’ve ever been to.”

Another added: “So enjoyed my visit to Barafundle last year.”

A third replied: “Stunning. Proud to be Welsh when we have beaches, sceneries and views like this.”

Meanwhile, a fourth remarked: “Yes! Gorgeous place. I live in Wales and there’s something stunning around every corner!”

Another also noted: “My favourite beach for a swim after a walk around the lily ponds and a walk to the café. A perfect day out.”

Where is it?

If you’ve never been before, Barafundle Bay is extremely well-visited. Indeed, it’s regularly cited as one of the finest beaches in Britain and across the globe for its golden sands and crystal-clear waters.

You’ll find it at Stackpole Estate, within the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park. There are just a few things worth knowing before you head there.

The beach can only be reached via a picturesque 0.5-mile (20 to 25-minute) walk from the closest car park at Stackpole Quay. The brief journey includes steep steps and clifftop paths.

Nevertheless, it’s an absolutely breathtaking spot to visit. If you’re on the lookout for somewhere fresh to discover this summer, it could feel every bit as good as jetting off abroad.

Kevin Lyman has always lived life on the move. For years it was a symptom of working to keep up with Warped Tour, a punk rock circus on wheels. Since bringing the festival back last year to celebrate its 30-year anniversary, he’s switched his mode of transport from buses to planes. What started as a two-month tour across the U.S. and parts of Canada is now a strategically placed, five-date extravaganza starting this weekend in Long Beach. With stops in Montreal, Mexico City, Orlando and Washington, the tour has gotten bigger with the partnership of EDM promoter Insomniac but Lyman insists that the soul of it remains the same.

Thriving on a mix of punk, emo, ska, hardcore, metal and action sports, Warped has become an entry point to festival culture for a new generation of fans, requiring Lyman to always move forward in his musical tastes while still trying to stay true to the essence of what made Warped more of a community than just an annual event.

Recently he chatted with The Times to discuss the process of continuing the fest’s revival and why it’s still a vital part of the summer festival ecosystem.

What were your initial thoughts after Warped Tour’s big comeback in Long Beach last year?

I was really nervous. To be honest, I knew I had one shot at getting it right. I knew there were going to be bigger stages, we were going to have video and lights, but I also knew that I had to make it feel like Warped Tour between the performances. So that little bit of controlled chaos we had between the stages — the merch tents, all the sponsorship booths, the skate ramps, the surprises we threw out each day — I think it was mission accomplished. The feedback overall has been fantastic from the fans. For some people closer to my age demo, maybe it was a little too much — their feet hurt. But Warped came back strong, we went back on sale [for 2026] fairly quickly, and to still have 50% of the people buy the tickets right away without knowing a band on the bill yet was great.

Jimmy Eat World is doing like their 25th anniversary of “Bleed American” at the fest this year. What does it mean to you to have some of those early Warped Tour bands like that on the bill again?

It felt good to have a lot of those bands. For me, one of the more emotional ones last year was Rise Against. They had such a big moment. They were such a part of Warped Tour, and you get them to come back and then watch that crowd, every phone went up in the crowd, and probably 50% of the people there had never seen them before.

“I’ve been a disruptor, and the disruption I’ve caused has attracted enough people. Now we’re a niche of people,” Lyman says. “Warped is a great niche.”

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You’ve always had your own way of doing things that created the culture of Warped Tour. Why do you feel it is still so vital in the festival ecosystem today?

I had to carve a niche out for myself in the industry. I was never going to really quite conform. I kind of came from that rebellious spirit that Goldenvoice instilled in me back in the ‘80s when I worked for them, and Gary Tovar was rebellious. So I’ve always kind of had that mentality of, “Hey, let’s go against the norm. Let’s make it something our own.” And even when I’m teaching at USC now, I say you have to learn the foundations of every business. And those foundations, to me, were working 12 years in the clubs of L.A., 320 nights a year, and then you have to make something your own. I always say when you decide to go for it — go for it. And I did, and it seemed to connect with enough people and resonated with enough people that I’d been around that said, “Wow, this is different. He needs to work on it. But instead of knocking him down, let’s support him.”… I’ve been a disruptor, and the disruption I’ve caused has attracted enough people. Now we’re a niche of people. Warped is a great niche.

How did you keep Warped on people’s minds year-round while you were planning it out this year?

That was a challenge because before we used to have the two-month tour, so we were able to build community to keep the conversation going. Community is a big driver for me. Everything we’re doing now is investing in the community, and I think it’s working. [In January] we had a downtown Long Beach event with the band Holy Wars, we had an event in Orlando. We had one event in a fraternity house backyard in Virginia, we had events in Mexico City and Montreal … canned food drives, blood drives or, you know, register to vote. We’ll drop those kind of events so we’re constantly in everyone’s mindset. And it’s not about monetizing. I think people are always asking “How do you monetize the superfan?” I’m like, “How do you reward them?” Giving people a free Sunday afternoon event in Long Beach, that’s a thank you. Those are the people that are going to spread the word when you post a video, they’re going to share it with all their friends, and then they’re going to be telling kids at their schools. A third of the people going to Warped had never been to a festival or even a concert before, so we need to engage them in a different way.

What are your ways of scouting out bands you want to take a chance on when booking the festival?

Well, I have a great booker named Amanda Phelan. She books with me, so she’s kind of that on the ground talking to the agents and things. I don’t necessarily do that much anymore. I talk to them, but my part is more like, “Oh, I want to see what bands other bands are talking about, or young people are talking about.” And then I’m also talking to lots of the independent promoters out there that you know I used to work with.

Why do you think younger generation of fest goers will keep discovering Warped Tour?

We used to be that festival where you know it was over by sunset, your mom could pick you up at the curb or you could get home by dark, and then you went off to other festivals. We were your entry point to festivals. We may be that entry point again, but a lot of it now will come down to price point. We know the economics of Warped Tour are conducive for people that want to go on two levels: ones that want to come and explore a festival, and other ones, maybe some of your peers, who don’t get to go out every night and see bands anymore because they all have real jobs and things. But they can go for one for two days and catch up on all music, which makes you feel like you’re staying young.