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The insult was meant for machines. The fallout landed squarely on humans. Introduction: The Rise of the “Clanker” Every few years, the internet coughs up a brand-new insult, often by accident, and then hurls it around with the manic glee of a middle school dodgeball game. In 2025, that insult is “clanker.” Borrowed from Star Wars: The Clone Wars , where clone troopers used it as a derogatory nickname for battle droids, the word has escaped its sci-fi origins and now roams the internet freely, usually aimed at ChatGPT and other A.I. chatbots. At first glance, this is almost adorable. People are so committed to hating machines that they’ve invented a schoolyard taunt for them. Never mind that machines don’t get offended. Never mind that calling ChatGPT a “clanker” is roughly as effective as screaming “loser” at your Roomba. The insult ricocheted around the internet anyway, building momentum like a digital snowball rolling downhill. But the story didn’t stop with the bots. Very quick...

Ah, Las Vegas. The city where the house always wins, unless the house suddenly realizes it has no insurance policy against the guy in cargo shorts who manages to win $40,000 at the blackjack table and then sues because his free shrimp cocktail was room-temperature. It’s the town where “risk management” usually means deciding whether to keep drinking after your 9th margarita or whether you can walk in heels down the Strip without falling into a decorative fountain. And yet, in the most ironic twist since Taco Bell launched a diet menu, UNLV has decided to plant its academic flag in one of the most… practical fields imaginable: insurance and risk management. Yes, you read that right. The Lee Business School is launching Nevada’s first Bachelor of Science in Business Administration (BSBA) in insurance and risk management. Because nothing says “Viva Las Vegas” like actuarial tables and deductible structures. The program is now accepting applications for fall. Which means somewhere, a hi...

If you’ve ever dreamed of a quiet suburban home where you and your significant other sip wine on the porch while your kids play fetch with the dog in the yard, I have some unfortunate news for you: statistically speaking, chances are you’ll end up sharing that porch with your 32-year-old son who insists “crypto will come back,” your mother-in-law who critiques your grilling technique, and a toddler who isn’t even yours but somehow lives with you because “daycare is too expensive.” Welcome to the new American dream: the multigenerational household. The Wall Street Journal’s Robyn A. Friedman tells us that living with your extended family is a smart financial move. Sure, she’s right—but she glosses over the more pressing reality: it’s also a one-way ticket to permanent family therapy and a lifetime subscription to noise-canceling headphones. So buckle in. We’re about to take a 3000-word snark-drenched ride through why so many Americans are shoving three, sometimes four, generations un...

America is turning 250 in 2026. Which means we are officially a quarter of a millennium old, which in human years makes us that cranky uncle who still calls TikTok “the Google.” It’s a milestone so big it makes the Bicentennial of 1976 look like a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese. And because America can’t resist throwing a self-congratulatory pity party, Yale has swooped in to do what Yale does best: give lectures that nobody asked for but everyone will pretend to watch on YouTube. Enter: David Blight, Joanne Freeman, and Beverly Gage — three esteemed Yale historians with resumes longer than the Declaration of Independence and vocabularies sharp enough to slice through your patriotic balloon animals. They are leading the DeVane Lecture course this fall, titled “America at 250: A History.” It’s free, it’s public, and it’s streaming on YouTube in mid-September. Which means you can binge-watch the fall of the Roman Republic and America’s midlife crisis without leaving your couch. So...

Ah, JABSOM—the John A. Burns School of Medicine. A place where future doctors learn how to perform life-saving procedures while simultaneously Googling symptoms like the rest of us. And now, in their hallowed halls, a new high priestess of footnotes has arrived: Carolyn Dennison, freshly anointed as the Director of the Library. Yes, that’s right. It’s not just any library. It’s the library. The sacred shrine where medical students pretend to study but really scroll TikTok until their scrubs reek of stress and instant ramen. And now, Carolyn is here to keep them all in line, making sure no one leaves without citing at least three peer-reviewed articles and a condescending “per my last email.” Let’s unpack this announcement, shall we? Because if there’s one thing academia loves more than grant money, it’s overhyping routine staffing changes like the Second Coming. The Myth of the “New Era” So JABSOM issued a proud announcement: “JABSOM Welcomes New Library Director, Carolyn Dennis...

Welcome aboard, ye landlubbers, Disney adults, and people who pretend they’re “only here for the kids” but secretly want to slam back cocktails in a fake pirate cave. Gather round, for I have survived a perilous voyage into Walt Disney World’s latest experiment in pirate-themed capitalism: The Beak and Barrel , Magic Kingdom’s first official bar. Yes, you read that correctly — the Magic Kingdom, the land that up until now treated alcohol like it was Voldemort, finally caved and said, “Fine, let’s put a tavern in the pirate ride. They’re going to sneak Fireball in their Hydro Flasks anyway.” The press release made it sound like we were about to step into a swashbuckling fever dream where Captain Jack serves you rum while an animatronic parrot curses in 17th-century slang. What we actually got? A 45-minute, two-drink-maximum sprint through Disney’s latest carefully calibrated attempt to drain your wallet while you thank them for the privilege. And I ate every bite, drank every overpric...

Introduction: The Fitness Industry’s Love Affair With Shiny Useless Things If the fitness industry had a Tinder bio, it would say: “Looking for a quick buck. Swipe right if you like overpriced gear that promises abs in three minutes.” Today’s right swipe? The weighted vest. You’ve seen them: people strutting around your park looking like underpaid mall cops training for a very slow apocalypse. Influencers swear these vests will give you steel bones, perfect posture, Olympic-level endurance, and maybe even a better personality. TikTok, of course, is brimming with twenty-somethings promising that wearing ten pounds on your chest while walking to Starbucks will cure menopause, osteoporosis, bad posture, global warming, and your inability to commit to leg day. But here’s the real question: are weighted vests actually good for bones and muscle, or are they just another expensive security blanket for people who don’t want to buy dumbbells? Let’s fact-check this fitness fad before you dr...

By now, if you’ve survived more than five minutes in the personal-finance ecosystem without bumping into Suze Orman’s face on a book cover, a podcast thumbnail, or a TV rerun where she’s yelling “Are you NUTS?!” at someone about their Roth IRA, then congratulations—you’ve probably been living under a rock. A very cheap rock. Probably one you couldn’t afford to upgrade because Suze told you to put all your money in a savings account “just in case.” And now she’s back, MarketWatch microphone in hand, doling out advice like the financial Moses parting the Red Sea of FOMO investors. Except, unlike Moses, Suze doesn’t give you miracles—she gives you Palantir. Yes, Suze Orman has revealed her favorite stock right now : Palantir Technologies. The same Palantir that’s been accused of being Big Brother’s intern, crunching data for governments while investors oscillate between cult-like faith and “wait, why is this thing trading like a meme stock with a clearance sticker?” But don’t worry, sh...