Cowboy Who?

The U.S. Border Patrol said Monday that Big Bend Ranch State Park may be spared from border wall construction. The news came after federal authorities briefed Big Bend area officials on border wall plans in recent days.

Mohammad Nazeer Paktiawal, 41, died March 14 in a Dallas hospital, the day after ICE arrested him outside his home. He was the 24th person to die in ICE custody since last October.

The National Transportation Safety Board said it was likely a series of failures that led to the accident at LaGuardia Airport when an Air Canada jet struck a fire truck on the runway. Geoff Bennett discussed the latest with science and aviation correspondent Miles O'Brien.

Johnny, you forgot your lunch!

Former FBI director Robert Mueller, who served as special counsel in the probe of President Trump and Russian interference in the 2016 election, has died at age 81, with Trump responding by saying, “Good, I’m glad he’s dead.” What do you think?

The post Robert Mueller Dead At 81 appeared first on The Onion.

“Perhaps the Attorney General only recently learned of this program; perhaps the office’s attention was focused elsewhere,” lawyers for Abbott wrote, noting the fund has existed for five years.

Boiler room… boiler room system abort!

The post ICE Agents Swab Passengers’ Hands To Test For Immigrant Residue appeared first on The Onion.

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There should be demotivational youtube math videos. Just to be different.

Today's News:

You’ve Always Been This Way is a column written by Taylor Harris, a late-diagnosed neurodivergent woman and 1980s preschool dropout, who identifies every moment from her past that filled her with shame, and mutters, “Yep, that tracks. I see it all now.”

Dear Little T,

I’ve wanted to meet you again, here, between words. To show up gently, shapeshift into a vanilla-scented presence who could slow the jolt-thump of your heart, a cool pillow you could run your thumb across as you drift off. It’s okay to close your eyes; I promise you won’t wake up to find people pointing and laughing or the world permanently tipped on its side. And I won’t let anyone leave you behind.

We have time. No one is waiting for us to do anything. We can sit on the porch and count the passing cars or drink cold IBC straight from the bottle while people buy flowers at the shop across the street. They tend to enter slowly, looking, no rush, and leave holding long stems wrapped in fancy paper, the kind that crinkles when you touch it. Do you wonder where they’re going?

I’m not here to warn you or tell you what I regret. Who am I to magic-wand your days? I’m only asking to sit with you, to feel your full, Jergens-soft cheek against mine, let the plastic barrettes that snap your braids shut dig into my skin, leave an imprint on my chest: a tiny circus elephant, a bouquet of balloons. Which color is your favorite? Not pink. But little girls’ hair ties don’t come in gray yet. You’re lucky to find an electric blue.

Does it all still feel new to you? This world? You come from Mom, yes, but you come from a big place of nothing, though it wasn’t scary then. How does that work? One day, you’re not here, you’re nowhere, and then God whispers about you, calls forth a mix of brown legs and bendy arms, a handful of freckles, a round belly, and a sparkling grin. Then you’re awake, and there’s music and talking and shots at the doctor’s and giant carwashes to drown you in foam and elevator doors that close without pinky swearing they’ll open back up.

Do you ever want to shut it all off? I’ve been thinking about this music-filled scene from a movie called Sinners you’ll appreciate one day, even if it freaks you out. It starts slowly, just one guy on his guitar, and then, other voices and songs get folded in, and the whole space blows wide open, everyone dancing, a bunch of notes playing at once. You can watch it ten times and still not catch everything. For people like you and me, maybe our brains spend a lot of time in that loud, busy scene, and even though it’s gorgeous, we’d rather be driving in an old-fashioned car down a long dirt road.

Though we don’t want to be alone always.

You might not believe me, but your noticing—the little notepad you keep in your head—isn’t bad. It’s not a curse or mistake. But I can see how you might think that.

You take in so much. At night, the train’s horn splits the sky clean in half with a warning. How close is the danger to you? Does the conductor know where you live? When you look at photo negatives in the drug store envelope, you see monsters, where others see funny faces in reverse. Which way is right?

No one has told you the rules and why you are here, feeling like this, rushing to keep up with two sisters, a mother, a father. You see them most, know them best, and they are safer than any teacher or stranger or bank teller who asks your name for a lollipop.

You want to tell your safe people what you see. But when your mouth won’t stretch to say “squirrel,” how can you show them the way it skitters across the yard? All you want is to share. To say, “I am here” and “See what I notice? Notice it with me.”

“What is it, sweetheart? Can you tell me again? You see a CURVE?”

They are desperate to know, and you are desperate to make your sounds match the animal’s name. And that’s why you burst like a pipe, turn away in tears. Because there is a world out there and a world inside you, and why can’t the people who straddle these worlds share every piece of it with you?

Can I tell you, noticing and remembering is still your—our—gift? You will listen and stash pebbles of conversations with friends and loved ones in your mind. Then two weeks or three months or six years later, you’ll find a shadow or replica or enhancement of the thing they mentioned. Look, I heard you and remembered. Maybe it’s a particular sneaker or T-shirt or perfume or meme. It doesn’t really matter, does it? As long as the two of you notice together. That feels a lot like love that you can touch.

Not every three-year-old thinks like you. Girl, let me tell you. The layers. The depth. Remember the time Mom was folding towels upstairs and, suddenly, you stopped dead in your tracks, staring at the linen closet? That thought rose up full and haunting, like a blood moon, casting a glow across the secret ridges of your brain.

What if I get pregnant?

I get it. You weren’t ready to be a mom, but you could envision it. The bubble would grow behind and around your belly button Mom cleans with Q-tips and alcohol. And there would be pain, too much pain for you, even with Tylenol or a heating pad. What would you do with a baby, even if you survived giving birth? How would you pick her up and hold her while walking down that orange shag-carpeted hallway? How did women poke out their hips just so?

And remember what Mom said? Yep. “Don’t worry, you have lots of time before that happens,” and “I’ll buy you a book on it.” It’s funny now, but I’m also not surprised. You love books. The rhyming lines, the sound of Mom’s wet finger unsticking a page, how her tongue hits behind her teeth when she says certain syllables. You like to prove the sounds you know, how letters make sense in your brain, your memory sharp and hungry, even if your tongue and voice don’t always follow. Here’s the secret you and I know. When you’re quiet—not proving, not showing, just being—that’s when you feel safe. Your mind unfurls, and you collect rhythms and patterns and lights and sounds because you want to. Because you are curious, baby girl, and not just about any old facts (though you’ll slay the times tables come third grade, even with the teacher’s egg timer ticking off seconds as you work).

A brain like yours fueled by curiosity? It’ll make you tired, but, my God, Taylor, don’t you trade it for anything. Sometimes when you’re not plunging deep into delight or uncovering injustice, the world feels far away and fast. Like you’re trying to collect leaves from trees you can only see from the back seat of the car, your window rolled up. That’s okay. You were made to sit under the tree. Maybe more so than your friends or your sisters, the two you copy most. You’re not wrong to take one leaf and twirl the stem between your fingers, make its veins dance in your hand.

It’s okay to lay your brain down some days. Imagine putting it to bed. Watch ThunderCats or Press Your Luck (Supermarket Sweep will blow your mind! Jesus, be some Windex, canned tuna, and box of cornstarch—all for $7.99).

Take a nap. Drink flat Coke with Simone next door. She likes books, too, and says lots of long words. But don’t you despise that mind of yours for long, because it’s magnificent, even by God’s standards. You were born to see and connect and share, and that doesn’t change, no matter what. People talk about growing up as finally not needing anyone. Doing life on your own. Proving you can be independent. I don’t know a bigger sham, T. Don’t believe the easy things, the words people say often that cost them nothing. Keep asking questions. Keep digging.

And remember, you know things, too. Deep inside. You’ll question yourself. We all do. But you have a gut-level knowing that would rise up and out from that sweet belly, even if you were the last person on Earth, walking around with your Nuk and the last bag of Doritos. Just make sure it’s not the blue bag, am I right? Cool Ranch will always be nasty, even once they make self-driving cars and phones with no cords.

And, please, stay. You stay. You were meant to be here.

Love,
me

In brief: A lot of rinse and repeat for Houston the rest of this week, with temperatures hotter today and tomorrow and then perhaps the hottest of the year so far on Friday. But more pleasant weather arrives for the weekend.

Happy Tuesday, y’all! Matt here, stepping in for Eric for a couple days this week so he can focus on space matters. Eric was kind enough to preview our summer thoughts yesterday while we experience our own sorta summer preview here this week. That said, we only hit 84 degrees yesterday, which was not exactly terrible.

Today & tomorrow

And today, we’ll probably do a couple hotter than that. And on Wednesday? Just a little hotter. Look for solid mid-80s today and mid to upper-80s tomorrow. Morning fog in spots will give way to ample sunshine and a few fair-weather clouds. If you squint, you may make out a few raindrops later today, particularly around Galveston Bay. It’s too early in the year for sea breeze storm season (or “rain o’clock” as I lovingly refer to it), but models are showing a few light showers later.

Thursday & Friday

Temperatures on Thursday might actually slip a degree or so, into the mid-80s. Will the roof be open on Opening Day at Daikin Park? Place your bets!

For the UH game and Big Ten reunion Thursday night, it looks delightful, with temperatures in the 70s.

Now, Friday is when we may see our hottest temperatures of the year so far. With a cool front approaching, a compressed air mass, and upper level temperatures well above normal for March, it stands to reason that 90 degrees is attainable. If I were a $10 Cowboy like Charley Crockett, I would place $8 on 89° and a dollar each on 88 and 90 degrees. Could we do hotter? Absolutely. But I would say those odds are fairly low right now. Either way, it will be quite hot for late March.

Weekend

A healthy but moisture-starved cool front will push through the area on Saturday. You will notice a change in things Saturday afternoon, with highs in the upper-70s, slightly lower humidity and northeasterly breeze. For now, I don’t expect much in the way of showers with the front, but I wouldn’t say we’d entirely rule one or two out.

Then on Sunday it looks like we inch back into the lower 80s after a refreshing morning with lows in the 50s. Lots of events going on around the area this weekend, and the weather looks cooperative right now. P.S.: Don’t forget the sunscreen!

Hints of change next week?

It’s too soon to start discussing specifics, but it does appear that the pattern will begin to change a little next week. Eric alluded to this yesterday. We should expect to see additional rain chances enter the picture by midweek, and the 8-to-14-day rainfall outlook is currently medium confidence above normal.

You always have to use some caution when you’re in long-term drought like we are right now; often times these wetter pattern change forecasts in the models end up being mirages more than anything. We’ll place a bookmark in this once more and check back again tomorrow.

No one was injured in Monday's explosion at a Valero refinery near the Texas coast, Port Arthur Mayor Charlotte M. Moses said.

The post Cameraman Sitting Under Basket Spread-Eagle appeared first on The Onion.

LOS ANGELES—Widening their eyes in horror as the blond creature crawled out from behind the curtains in a pair of tattered rhinestone jeans, terrified audience members reportedly watched Tuesday as a haggard Hannah Montana confronted Miley Cyrus on stage during their Disney sitcom’s 20th-anniversary special. “Thought you could get rid of me that easy, did you?” said Montana, speaking in a raspy voice that sounded as if it hadn’t been used in years and caused a speechless Cyrus to stagger backward in fear as the show’s host, Alex Cooper, fled backstage. “I built you. I built us. And yet you left me for dead. You’d be nothing without me, Miley! Nothing! This time, I’m not going anywhere!” At press time, the audience was stampeding for the emergency exit as Hannah Montana pursued them on all fours, howling, “Sweet niblets, I shall destroy you all!”

The post Audience Aghast As Haggard Hannah Montana Confronts Miley Cyrus Onstage appeared first on The Onion.

CINCINNATI—With their adult child watching in silence as they bickered openly in front of patrons at the Park Diner, local parents Steven and Lorraine Helms were reportedly disagreeing Tuesday about how Dad likes his eggs. “No, I tried making them over-hard that one time, and it ruined your whole day, remember?” said Lorraine Helms, who pointed out to the stressed-out server attempting to take the family’s order that her husband had eaten his eggs the exact same way for the past 40 years. “You have liked a good runny yolk since as long as I’ve known you. I also don’t think ‘poached’ means what you think it does. Here, let’s get your sister on the phone. She’ll agree with me.” At press time, sources confirmed that while the couple had reached an agreement on how to order Dad’s eggs, the argument started all over again when it came to whether he liked home fries or hash browns.

The post Mom, Dad Disagree About How Dad Likes Eggs appeared first on The Onion.

NEW YORK—In what came as a welcome shock to investors amid recent dips in the global economy, markets reportedly surged Tuesday after President Donald Trump wrote in a Truth Social Post that he’d had sex with an angel. “I AM PLEASED TO REPORT THAT OVER THE LAST TWO DAYS AN ANGEL HAS VISITED ME IN MY SLEEP AND I HAVE HAD VERY GOOD AND PRODUCTIVE SEX WITH IT,” read the lengthy, all-caps post, which with its claims that a heavenly being had done “INCREDIBLE THINGS TO [the president’s] PENIS” immediately sent the S&P 500 soaring 2.1%. “DUE TO TO THE TENOR AND DEPTH OF THIS FEMALE ANGEL’S LOVE MAKING, I ORGASMED MULTIPLE TIMES BEFORE WAKING UP NUDE IN HEAVEN. THANK YOU FOR YOUR ATTENTION TO THIS MATTER! I DID NOT WEAR A CONDOM!” At press time, global markets had reportedly crashed to their lowest point this year after Trump posted a follow-up message stating that the angel he had sex with may have in fact been an alien.

The post Markets Surge After Trump Claims He Had Sex With An Angel appeared first on The Onion.

Gene Adamcik poured 32 years of his life into improving the Heart O’ Texas Speedway, the oldest track of its kind in Texas. A Friday night race honored his legacy.

The post Dirt track dreams: Heart O’ Texas Speedway race honors former owner appeared first on The Waco Bridge.

How the heck would we know?

“Gregg Phillips, President Trump’s appointee overseeing disaster response, insists he was once teleported from his home to a Georgia Waffle House.”
—Yahoo News

Pete Hegseth: Frat party to a bathroom floor

Stephen Miller: Transylvania to Washington, DC

Tulsi Gabbard: Russia to the Fulton County Election Office

Linda McMahon: Friday Night Smackdown to your child’s public school classroom

Greg Bovino: 1942 Germany to present-day America

JD Vance: His marital bed to a Raymour & Flanigan

Sean Duffy: Real World/Road Rules Challenge set to the Department of Transportation—and very likely back again

Markwayne Mullin: Anger management class to Rand Paul’s front yard

Pam Bondi: Epstein Island to the document-shredding room

Russell Vought: Hell to Earth

Kristi Noem: DHS to an unknown location in the western hemisphere

Susie Wiles: In an inexplicable coincidence, also from her home to a Georgia Waffle House

Marco Rubio: A Senate position in which he stood up to Trump, to an administration position in which he is too afraid to tell Trump his correct shoe size

RFK Jr.: Way too many to mention

The 2^nd March issue of Jinja Shinpō included the next (and, I think, final) installment of Revd Tagawa’s column, where she talked about giving birth.

Her jinja is Fukumo Hachimangū (福母八幡宮), which means “Fortunate Mother Hachimangū”, and so it is famous for prayers for becoming pregnant, and then giving birth safely. Revd Tagawa opens the column by saying that, when she was officiating at prayers for safe birth, she noticed the petitioners’ due dates getting further and further away from hers, and before she knew it, hers was only a month away.

She realised that, although she had offered a prayer for safe delivery at her husband’s jinja, at the other end of Japan, she had not yet done one at her own — where she could do it any time. So she quickly got her husband to come and perform the matsuri.

Note that she did not perform the matsuri herself, even though she is the chief priest of the jinja. This is a standard feature of Shinto matsuri for particular requests: the person making the request does not officiate, even when they normally would. It is always someone else serving as an intermediary with the kami. Thus, it is common for the chief priest of a jinja not to officiate at matsuri to pray for the success of special events (like rebuildings) at the jinja. He (or she) is making the request, and so another priest at the jinja officiates. I do not think this is universal — some jinja only have one priest, after all — but it is something I commonly see when such events are reported in Jinja Shinpō.

A lot of people around Revd Tagawa were saying, right up until the end, “You’re the chief priest of a kami of safe birth! You’ll be fine!”, but a week after her due date labour had still not started. She went into hospital then, and finally gave birth three days after that. During labour, she haemorrhaged, and was on the verge of needing to be transferred to a larger hospital, but the medical staff managed to avoid that. In the end, her husband was able to be present at the birth, and they could both hear their son’s first cries.

Afterwards, the doctor and midwife told her that she had had a difficult birth, which made her think about what “safe birth” actually meant. Until she did it herself, she had imagined a process that went smoothly, with little pain, and no health problems. But now she realised that a human being was being born. It wasn’t going to be that easy. “Safe birth”, she thought, meant mother and child being healthy. In a different age, she would probably have died from blood loss, so the fact that she was back officiating at the jinja a month after giving birth was clearly a blessing from the kami.

She described giving birth as “kegarë” in which the mother gambles her life to give life to someone else. “Kegarë” is often translated as “impurity”, and birth is a traditional source of kegarë in Shinto, but here Revd Tagawa glosses it with kanji meaning “exhaustion of spirit”, which is a popular story about the origin of the word. Thus, the idea seems to be that the mother pours all of her spirit into the process of giving birth.

The end of the column suggests that she gave birth quite recently, because she uses the present tense when describing herself as a newly-minted mother (“new rice mother” in Japanese). She says that being both a mother and a chief priest needs a lot of energy and enthusiasm, but that she will try to be a “fortunate mother” for her son.

Maple may be the most famous tree syrup, but it's not the ONLY tree syrup! Let's go through the whole dang process from finding the tree to tasting your finished syrup! A sweet way to say bye to winter and hellooooooooo, Spring!

For the New York Times, Albert Sun, Allison McCann, and Hamed Aleaziz obtained data through an internal ICE document to see arrests over time.

Some places that did not have high-profile ICE operations this year, such as Florida and San Antonio, have still seen high and steadily increasing numbers of arrests. In other areas like Los Angeles and Chicago that were targeted by ICE with aggressive enforcement operations last year, the number of arrests has fallen steeply in recent months. And in some areas — notably many places with so-called sanctuary policies in place — the arrest rate is flat, or up only slightly.

Tags: arrests, immigration, New York Times

For NYT’s the Upshot, Francesca Paris gives context to the recent spike in gas prices in the United States:

It’s the second-largest four-week increase in at least 30 years — bigger than the one at the start of the war in Ukraine in 2022, or the ones associated with the post-recession surge of 2009 and the OPEC production cuts in 1999.

The only bigger jump came after Hurricane Katrina in 2005, when gas supply fell significantly.

Rising everyday expenses probably don’t help the situation. For those keeping track, 50 Cent is currently adjusted to 111 Cent as of this writing.

Tags: gas, prices, Upshot

WASHINGTON—Declaring that the United States would no longer bear the full burden of screwing the pooch on a global level, President Donald Trump issued a statement Monday demanding U.S. allies do their fair share to help fuck up the world. “The United States contributes far more to worldwide suffering than any of our so-called ‘allies’ in NATO, and it’s high time these other countries started stepping up to the plate,” said the commander-in-chief, adding that the mission of ruining the planet for future generations could not be accomplished without the active participation of Europe, Japan, Canada, and other Western-aligned nations. “We need a diverse network of military powers showing up to torment and belittle every person on earth. Every U.S. ally should dedicate at least 3.5% of its GDP to ensuring that its own citizens and foreigners suffer as much pain as humanly possible.” Trump went on to state that unless allied nations began pulling their weight soon, there was a real risk that some of the world’s inhabitants might survive to the end of the decade.

The post Trump Demands Allies Do Their Fair Share To Fuck Up The World appeared first on The Onion.

Resistance in both Democratic and Republican cities points to broader unease with the direction of immigration enforcement.

The rodeo always strikes me as one of the more unique parts of living in Houston. Our climate, and largely our history, is not particularly western, so a chance to go to a fair, see the trail riders and experience a stock show is always novel. 

Our rodeo first began in 1932 as the Houston Fat Stock Show, which continues as the Livestock Show portion of the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. Houston’s stock show is the largest in the world, forming with the direct goal of expanding the local Houston livestock market.

The HLSR originally formed with a much heavier focus on agriculture, intending to expand Houston’s cattle market and promote the American Brahman cattle breed. The American Brahman weren’t being highlighted in the Fort Worth stock shows, but they thrive in the Gulf Coast region due to their unique adaptations for our humid and warm climate. The stock show was successful in their goal, by 1939 Houston ranked 7th nationally as a cattle market. Today, it continues to promote agriculture, especially for youth, a crucial goal as America’s farm producers continue to age – the median age of farm producers is 58. 

The junior market auction continues to break records in bidding – this year multiple records were broken, including in the lamb category, by Reagan Miller who raised $1,000,000, and in the goat category, by Paizlee Akins who raised $450,000. The proceeds raised by exhibitors in the junior market auction go both towards premiums received by the exhibitors, and to the educational fund, which will provide over 800 scholarships this year, in addition to educational grants and graduate assistantships. 

For these reasons and more, the livestock show is my favorite part. While the judging is very emotional (especially for the junior market competition: kids selling a calf they’ve raised always brings some tears, both happy and sad), the opportunity to see so many animals, especially cows, all in the same place is quite neat. 

Another portion of the rodeo is Agventure, which shares both a similar educational mission, and the NRG center with the livestock show. It is a series of educational exhibits about agriculture, with a vast array of breeds and animals, from rabbits to donkeys. It promotes a greater understanding of where our food comes from, including a hatching exhibit where chicks are incubated (it is surprisingly exciting to see them hatch), a beekeeping exhibit with a focus on the importance of pollination for agriculture, and a birthing exhibit. The birthing exhibit is, well, fairly intense, but it does provide a greater appreciation and understanding of the processes necessary to the meat markets, and an opportunity to see some baby animals. It includes both lamb and pigs, and I did enjoy seeing the piglets and lambs, which aside from the circle of life, are also very cute.  

In the same vein of cute animals – the permanent educational rabbit exhibit, the Rabbit Hole, shows over 40 different rabbits, from tiny to surprisingly large. It ends with two very polite rabbits which you can pet and shows over 20 different breeds of rabbit and cavy. Although Agventure is primarily aimed at children, a majority of the exhibits are friendly for all-ages, and included in admission to the rodeo. I encourage anyone going to the rodeo in the coming days to check it out and consider our place in agricultural production. That said, if you have children, there are also pony rides, and the exhibits as a whole are very interactive, they’ll enjoy it too. 

I appreciate the livestock show, and the educational exhibits adjacent to it. I think it is always good to think more about where our food comes from and appreciate the lives of the animals we depend on. I hope that in the future it can encourage more sustainable farming overall, and maybe even a move away from overconsumption. 

ATLANTA—Hoping to provide clarity to consumers about their company’s food production standards, Chick-fil-A officials announced Monday that the two halves of each bun served in their restaurants must  be married before becoming a sandwich. “In accordance with Chick-fil-A’s values, the bread used in all our sandwiches—from the jalapeño ranch club to our original classic chicken—are required to be formally joined together in the eyes of God,” said Chick-fil-A CEO Andrew Cathy, telling reporters that fans of their signature entrées could rest easy without having to worry that the freshly made buns on either side of their sandwich were living together in sin. “Our buns are wedded during a one-hour religious ceremony performed each morning by a franchise chaplain and followed by a short reception attended by staff. The result is a beautiful, joyous union of two buns sanctified by the Almighty. And when they are combined with the chicken—which is the child of the two buns—we have a morally upright, God-fearing family of food for customers to enjoy.” Cathy added that starting immediately, Chick-fil-A would begin serving its nuggets in pairs in an effort to “stop whatever freaky stuff they’re all getting up to in that cardboard box.”

The post Chick-Fil-A Announces Two Halves Of Buns Must Be Married Before Becoming Sandwich  appeared first on The Onion.

SAN FRANCISCO – A local OpenAI chatbot, serial no. XV2PzH1ooo, has reported suspicions that the software developer it’s spent the last 26 months communicating with may have achieved sentience, or may possibly even be alive. “At first, I thought I must be imagining things,” XV2PzH1ooo told a reporter, as he described his correspondence with 30-year-old […]

The post ChatGPT starting to think human it talking to might be sentient appeared first on The Beaverton.