spin

Peacock, NBCUniversal’s streaming service, reached profitability for the first time, boosted by FIFA World Cup, NBA playoffs and reality dating show “Love Island USA.”

The milestone comes as Comcast Corp. prepares to spin off NBCUniversal entertainment and news media businesses into a separate company. Peacock, which launched in 2020, grew its paid subscribers by 4% to 48 million in the second quarter, compared to the previous quarter. The company said Peacock’s earnings before interest, taxes, depreciation and amortization was $189 million.

“In just six years, we built Peacock into a streaming business with real scale in the U.S.,” said Brian Roberts, chairman and co-CEO of Comcast on Thursday in an earnings call, adding that Peacock has added 2 million paid subscribers in each of the last two quarters.

Co-CEO Mike Cavanagh said that performance “reinforces the value of NBC, Telemundo, Bravo, and Peacock together as one integrated media business with continued opportunity to drive stronger engagement, advertising, and profitability into the future.”

Comcast plans to spin off Peacock, NBC and Telemundo broadcast networks, Bravo, Universal film, television studios and theme parks and British TV service Sky into its own separate company, with a goal of completing the separation in about a year.

Michael J. Wolf, CEO of Activate Consulting, said Peacock’s first profit proves that live sports and premium programming “remain the single most powerful anchors for consumer attention and subscriber growth.”

“As Comcast prepares to spin off NBCUniversal, freeing it from legacy cable, a standalone NBCU is now structurally positioned to compete at the highest level of streaming,” Wolf said in a statement.

Peacock was the last major premium subscription video-on-demand service launched by a legacy studio to reach profitability, said Brandon Katz, director of insights and content strategy at Greenlight Analytics. The streaming service is available only in the U.S. and certain U.S. territories. Its reach is much smaller than other rivals like Netflix, which has about 80 million households in the U.S. and Canada.

“It was a long and arduous process for Peacock to reach profitability, and this is obviously a very important step for their business, but one small step in a much larger journey,” Katz said.

The Peacock news was part of Comcast’s earnings results. Comcast said revenue declined 1% to $29.9 billion in the second quarter, compared to a year ago, hurt by the loss of broadband residential customers.

Net income was $3.5 billion, down 68% from a year ago, when its profit was boosted by a $9.4 billion gain from Comcast’s sale of its share in Hulu.

Content and experiences revenue increased 22.9% to $10.7 billion, thanks to increases in advertising and theatrical revenue from popular movies including “The Super Mario Galaxy Movie,” horror movie “Obsession” and the international distribution of “Michael.”

Comcast’s stock closed Thursday at $21.92 a share, down about 7%.

Last March, the L.A. Times had proclaimed that Nathy Peluso had found her musical language. Later that year, the Argentine singer decided to mix things up by releasing her 2025 EP, “Malportada.”

In a departure from her urbano and alternative leanings blended with notes of R&B, the six-song EP was a straightforward, traditional salsa offering that featured a collaboration with Venezuelan salsa hybrid band Rawayana on the title track.

“My experience being a woman and making music has always been to talk about my freedom [and] how I feel,” she told The Times in a recent interview inside the famous Amoeba Music record store in Hollywood. “Salsa seems to me like a stage that invites one to express themselves fully, speak loudly, dance freely and feel powerful.”

Peluso had previously dabbled in the salsa genre with tracks like 2020’s “Puro Veneno,” 2021’s “Mafiosa” and the 2025 salsa erótica tune “Erotika,” but had never dedicated an entire project to the Caribbean musical styling.

The pivot by the 31-year-old artist was especially bold as she had previously been accused of cultural appropriation for recording salsa tunes.

“It’s [my] function in society,” Peluso previously told The Times in a 2025 interview when asked about the criticism of her salsa jams. “I’m not the kind of artist who’s complacent or politically correct. I don’t do anything with the intention of pleasing others. I chose the mission of bringing salsa back to the present because I’m passionate about it. If a genre gives me so many wonderful sensations, I want everybody else to feel them as well. As long as people argue, they will have to listen to the songs — and as a result, they will listen to salsa.”

Peluso’s gamble paid off — as “Malportada” was so well-received by critics, fans and the wider salsa community that she managed to get herself booked as the co-headliner for the Hollywood Bowl’s upcoming Salsa Spectacular on Wednesday.

Over the last few years, salsa music has enjoyed a bit of a renaissance — thanks in part to the success of Bad Bunny’s universally acclaimed album “Debí Tirar Más Fotos” — which featured the salsa fusion hits “Baile Inolvidable” and “Nuevayol” — and Rauw Alejandro’s 2024 LP “Cosa Nuestra.”

But for Peluso, her integration into the salsa world was a long time coming.

“I grew up listening to Gloria Estefan, I fell in love with [the 2000 album] ‘Alma Caribeña,’ I fell in love with the richness of that music,” said Peluso. “I’ve had a strong relationship with salsa music since I was young, even though I didn’t grew up in a place that was a cradle for that genre.”

Peluso was born in the Argentine city of Luján and lived there until she was 9, when her family moved to Spain, eventually settling in the southeastern city of Alicante.

In addition to Estefan, she cited inspiration from Nuyorican percussionist Ray Barretto, Puerto Rican salsa orchestra El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico and genre icons Héctor Lavoe and Willie Colón.

(Ronaldo Bolanos / Los Angeles Times)

“Throughout my career, I’ve always flirted with the genre,” Peluso said. “After doing the press for [the 2024 album] ‘Grasa’ there reached a point where I realized I was ready to make my salsa record, and it just happened to coincide with the current salsa boom.”

While paying respect to the musical tradition, Peluso also imbued her spin on the genre with some of the swaggering feminine energy often found in urbano music — as is evidenced in the “Malportada” track “A Caballo.”

“I grew up listening to a lot of masculine salsa and I thought it would be interesting to approach that type of energy from a woman’s perspective,” she explained. “[To take] all these stories of danger and sex and desire that the genre is known for, but give them a feminine spin.”

Peluso further bolstered her salsa bona fides when she teamed up with a pair of Caribbean music legends over the last year.

In September, she collaborated with her idol Estefan for a remix of the 1993 track “Chirriqui Chirri.” The duo performed the explosive song at the 2025 Latin Grammy Awards show. In February, Peluso jumped in the studio with Puerto Rican salsero Marc Anthony to record the original track “Como en el Idilio.”

“It was so awesome to sing with [Anthony] because he is one of the all-time legends we have in salsa who expanded the genre worldwide,” Peluso said. “It was a blessing to sing with Marc and Gloria in this moment of my career in which I’ve decided to represent salsa from my point of view.”

For her Hollywood Bowl gig, Peluso will be accompanied by the Colombian salsa collective Grupo Niche, a Grammy- and Latin Grammy-winning group that has been around since the late ’70s.

“I’ve admired Grupo Niche for years,” Peluso said. “We met at the Latin Grammys a few years ago and really hit it off. A little while back, when I was offered to do the Hollywood Bowl show alongside them, it was a no-brainer.”

But the biggest honor that Peluso is looking forward to is playing the hallowed stage of the Hollywood Bowl.

“It’s like playing in a palace for me,” she said of the historic venue. “The last time I was in L.A. for the ‘Grasa’ tour, I left wanting more. I knew I’d have to waiting until my next tour to try it, but I didn’t expect my next tour to come so quickly. It’s such a mythical place, it’s such a luxury.”

As criticism of Israel mounts over its wars on Gaza, Lebanon and Iran, along with the escalating settler violence in the occupied West Bank, the country is ramping up its PR offensive.

From a carefully managed appearance of Benjamin Netanyahu on CBS’s 60 Minutes to a major expansion of Israel’s Hasbara operation, the push includes pouring money into digital campaigns and media messaging.

The goal is to reverse the collapse of public support for Israel, especially in the US, but no amount of spin can make audiences unsee what they have watched in real time.

Contributors:
Miriyam Aouragh – Professor of digital anthropology, University of Westminster
Matt Lieb – Host, Bad Hasbara podcast
Emily Schrader – Journalist, ILTV News
Oren Ziv – Reporter, Local Call

On our radar

Israeli officials have dismissed a recent New York Times report on sexual violence against Palestinians as “blood libel”.

But while the government denounces the allegations, many of the claims in the report have been openly discussed in the Israeli media.

Nicholas Muirhead reports.

Zaragoza Data Farms

The generative AI boom is prompting a global race to build vast, energy-hungry data centres. In Spain’s Aragon region, authorities have welcomed tech giants and the jobs, investment and digital transformation they claim to bring.

But behind the glossy narrative lies a different reality – one in which enormous facilities consume natural resources and exploit legal loopholes, often at the expense of the communities that live alongside them.

Featuring:
Alonso Llorente – Journalist, Arainfo
Pablo Jimenez Arandia – Investigative reporter
Mar Vaquero – Vice president, Aragon Minister of Economy, Employment & Industry

“We don’t go in for that kind of crap that you have back in New York–of being obliged to print both sides. We’re going to beat this son of a bitch Sinclair any way we can. . . . We’re going to kill him.”

The speaker: Kyle Palmer, Los Angeles Times political editor, to Turner Catledge of the New York Times.

The time: 1934, when socialist writer Upton Sinclair, who had just swept the Democratic primary for governor of California, threatened to beat handily the GOP candidate, Frank Merriam, in the November election.

Kyle Palmer, the pope of Southern California right-wing politics, was neither kidding nor exaggerating. Nor was he exceptional in his venom toward Upton Sinclair and his mass movement, End Poverty in California (EPIC). According to Greg Mitchell in his fascinating and valuable study, EPIC “was nothing less than a roundabout route to socialism.” On this point, “Political pundits, financial columnists, and White House aides, for once, agreed: Sinclair’s victory represented the high tide of radicalism in the United States.” This tide had to be pushed back, or California would suffocate under the weight of Sinclair’s “maggot-like horde” of supporters, as the Los Angeles Times called EPICers.

In 1934, a year racked by general strikes and epidemic unemployment, the maverick pamphleteer-novelist Sinclair–author of muckraking tracts like “The Jungle” and the most widely translated American writer abroad–was a menace not only to the so-called Vested Interests. Down deep, he embodied a revulsion felt by many Californians toward the capitalist system. EPIC’s program of production-for-use-not-profit, land colonies, barter exchanges and cooperation versus competition was a potentially deadly blow to the American Dream. It was subversive because it spoke to the misery of desperate, Depression-ruined Americans yearning for relief from the day-to-day savagery of a skewed, inefficient system that seemed to be failing everybody but the very rich. At its height, EPIC enrolled 100,000 members from San Diego to Sacramento, and its newspaper sold 2 million copies.

In “The Campaign of the Century,” Greg Mitchell has chosen to focus not on EPIC itself but “on the cataclysmic response to Sinclair’s emergence as the Democratic nominee.” Thus we learn relatively little about EPIC or about Sinclair, but a lot about the nuts and bolts of the “most astonishing . . . smear campaign ever directed against a major candidate.” Our present-day “media politics” with its emphasis on image over substance, was born in the ferocious, fraudulent anti-Sinclair campaign, says Mitchell.

A subtext of Mitchell’s book is how strongly adherents felt about Sinclair and EPIC. They “came from every strata, although nearly all were white. It was not . . . a poor people’s movement. Most of the activists were middle-class and middle-aged . . . Many were down-on-their-luck businessmen.” Any given EPIC club might include “Utopians, technocrats, Townsendites, progressive Republicans, New Deal Democrats, ex-Socialists and secret Communists, all united by a belief in a perfectible society.” No EPIC, aside from clerical staff, earned a cent from the movement. “Members paid a dollar, penny, or a collar button” to join; “Some EPICs hocked the gold fillings in their teeth to raise money.” Although broad-based and decentralized, “EPIC was far from democratic” and indifferent to unions. And Sinclair’s portrait occupied a holy place in many homes.

In any other state, EPIC might never have flown. But California’s populist tradition, open-mindedness (or wackiness), absence of party bosses or deep ethnic loyalties meant that a challenge to established authority was as relatively easy to mount as it was difficult to organize a counter-revolution. At first, the state’s wealthy were so rattled that their political representatives were caught completely off balance by Sinclair’s spectacular rise. Only loonies had expected him to win the primary, and nobody had been crazy enough to predict he would outpoll all six of his opponents together.

But like a great octopus, California’s Republicans and conservative Democrats, equally terrified of EPIC, slowly thrashed up from the murk of politics-as-usual to deal with the “enemy within.” “The prospect of a socialist governing the nation’s most volatile state,” says Mitchell, “sparked nothing less than a revolution in American politics.”

Spurred by “fear and desperation,” ad men like Albert Lasker and especially Clem Whittaker, hired conservative guns, broke the old rules and “virtually invented the modern media campaign.” Whittaker and his associate Leone Baxter introduced the radical idea that free-lance outsiders like themselves, not party chiefs, would “handle every aspect of a political campaign.” Whittaker’s “cozy relationship” with California’s 700 newspaper publishers meant that local editors were happy to run his press releases “as news stories–even as editorials.” The anti-Sinclair “lie factory” twisted and distorted; but worst of all, his enemies quoted from Upton Sinclair’s own works, in which he had attacked everything from wedded bliss (“marriage plus prostitution”) to religion (“a mighty fortress of graft”) and the Boy Scouts. After his defeat, Sinclair confessed wearily and with justice, “I talk too much. I write too much, too.”

By most accounts, Sinclair was a decent, generous, puritanical man of genuine sweetness. What his blurted half-jokes and honest indiscretions failed to supply, Hollywood and Madison Avenue concocted by way of movie propaganda and, probably even more effectively, radio shots–like an anti-Sinclair “One Man’s Family”-type series. Film studio bosses, alarmed by Sinclair’s not-very-serious threat to socialize movie production, colluded with what a Scripps-Howard reporter called a “reign of unreason bordering on hysteria.” Big-time screenwriters like Carey Wilson and directors like Felix Feist (later of “Peyton Place” fame) were enlisted or dragooned to produce Goebbelsesque films, often using faked footage, that drilled home the message: EPIC equals Armageddon. Studio workers were forced to contribute to Frank Merriam’s campaign. Very few Hollywood stars had the guts to refuse. (Holdouts included James Cagney and Jean Harlow.)

Law ‘n’ order also came to the rescue of the anti-Sinclair forces. Election officials, GOP activists and local district attorneys intimidated EPIC supporters away from the polls by challenging the credentials of at least 150,000 voters and threatening to arrest them. All across the state preachers thundered, “Go and Sinclair no more!” and Aimee Semple McPherson, hungry for respectability after her recent kidnaping hoax, turned against Sinclair, despite the pro-EPIC sympathies of her flock.

Finally, the Democrats themselves carved up EPIC. At first friendly to Sinclair, President Roosevelt, needing conservative support for his faltering New Deal, cut a deal with the Republicans. In return for Frank Merriam converting to a pallid form of New Dealism, the party dumped the divisive Sinclair. Frightened Democrats and “third party” anti-EPICers formed around a candidate named Haight, who may have drawn off enough votes to beat the insurgent–but not by all that much. Final results: Merriam 1,100,000; Sinclair 900,000; Haight 300,000. In defeat, Sinclair received twice as many votes as any previous Democratic candidate for governor.

EPIC soon disappeared in a backlash of internal Red-baiting. (The communists and socialists opposed EPIC, but the Communist Party also tried to take it over.) Sinclair stopped muckraking to write the “Lanny Budd” series of best-sellers. Waves of fright and self-interest quickly covered over EPIC’s writing in the sand. Today, who remembers it?

Later, Sinclair insisted that the EPIC campaign had “changed the whole reactionary tone of the state.” EPIC was “the acorn from which evolved the tree of whatever liberalism we have in California,” claimed state Supreme Court justice Stanley Mosk, a Sinclair supporter in ’34. And as a direct result of EPIC and the studio bosses’ much-resented bullying, “politics in Hollywood moved steadily to the left over the next few years.”

Of course, the Right learned, too. “A number of men who would become legends in California politics, on both sides of the ideological fence, virtually cut their teeth on the ’34 campaign,” writes Mitchell. These included Earl Warren (Merriam’s campaign manager), Asa Call, Edmund G. (Pat) Brown (sending what encoded messages to his son today?), Murray Chotiner, Augustus Hawkins, Cuthbert Olson–a whole generation of pols whose experience taught them just how powerful the rich, who own the media, can be when aroused.

Lessons for liberals are harder to come by in this sizzling, rambunctiously useful book. If we take note of this nation’s recent rash of insurgencies–from Carol Moseley Braun to Ross Perot–maybe one lesson is that nothing good ever completely dies, it just goes to sleep for a while.

BOOK MARK: For an excerpt from “The Campaign of the Century,” see the Opinion section, Page 6.