Powderhorn

Maybe you spell it "barbecue" or barbeque or BBQ.

And maybe you prefer a nice charred burger to a smoky steak and a sweet sauce over one that has more of a vinegar tang to it.

Regardless of how you take it, or spell it, barbecue as we know it has the same origins — stretching back to before Europeans set foot in the U.S.

Now technically, the method of cooking outside on an open flame has likely been around since man discovered fire. Yet, it's an early encounter between Spanish conquerors and Indigenous Caribbeans that brought us the actual word "barbecue."

Before you get ready to scrape off the grill for this July Fourth, learn more about the history of this quintessential American tradition.

When I moved to Texas a decade ago, I was very quickly taught that "barbecue" is not a synonym for "grill."

In a memo to employees earlier this week, Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg shared a vision for a near-future in which "personal [AI] superintelligence for everyone" forms "the beginning of a new era for humanity." The newly formed Meta Superintelligence Labs—freshly staffed with multiple high-level acquisitions from OpenAI and other AI companies—will spearhead the development of "our next generation of models to get to the frontier in the next year or so," Zuckerberg wrote.

Reading that memo, I couldn't help but think of another "vision for the future" Zuckerberg shared not that long ago. At his 2021 Facebook Connect keynote, Zuckerberg laid out his plan for the metaverse, a virtual place where “you're gonna be able to do almost anything you can imagine" and which would form the basis of "the next version of the Internet."

Zuckerberg believed in that vision so much at the time that he abandoned the well-known Facebook corporate brand in favor of the new name "Meta." "I'm going to keep pushing and giving everything I've got to make this happen now," Zuckerberg said at the time. Less than four years later, Zuckerberg seems to now be “giving everything [he's] got" for a vision of AI “superintelligence," reportedly offering pay packages of up to $300 million over four years to attract top talent from other AI companies (Meta has since denied those reports, saying, “The size and structure of these compensation packages have been misrepresented all over the place").

Once again, Zuckerberg is promising that this new technology will revolutionize our lives and replace the ways we currently socialize and work on the Internet. But the utter failure (so far) of those over-the-top promises for the metaverse has us more than a little skeptical of how impactful Zuckerberg’s vision of “personal superintelligence for everyone" will truly be.

Looks like Zuck is angling for the golden shoehorn award (a real thing at one of the papers I worked for). It would be nice if all these failures actually put a dent in Meta's income, but who's really going to notice tens of billions being lost when you essentially own a money-printing scheme?

The traffic receded as Chicago withdrew into the distance behind me on Interstate 90. Barns and trees dotted the horizon. The speakers in my rental car, playing Spotify from my smartphone, put out the opening riff of a laid-back psychedelic-rock song. When the lyrics came, delivered in a folksy vibrato, they matched my mood: “Smoke in the sky / No peace found,” the band’s vocalist sang.

Except perhaps he didn’t really sing, because he doesn’t exist. By all appearances, neither does the band, called the Velvet Sundown. Its music, lyrics, and album art may be AI inventions. Same goes for the photos of the band. Social-media accounts associated with the band have been coy on the subject: “They said we’re not real. Maybe you aren’t either,” one Velvet Sundown post declares. (That account did not respond to a request for comment via direct message.) Whatever its provenance, the Velvet Sundown seems to be successful: It released two albums last month alone, with a third on its way. And with more than 850,000 monthly listeners on Spotify, its reach exceeds that of the late-’80s MTV staple Martika or the hard-bop jazz saxophonist Cannonball Adderley. As for the music: You know, it’s not bad.

It’s not good either. It’s more like nothing—not good or bad, aesthetically or morally. Having listened to both of the Velvet Sundown’s albums as I drove from Chicago to Madison, Wisconsin, earlier this week, I discovered that what may now be the most successful AI group on Spotify is merely, profoundly, and disturbingly innocuous. In that sense, it signifies the fate of music that is streamed online and then imbibed while one drives, cooks, cleans, works, exercises, or does any other prosaic act. Long before generative AI began its takeover of the internet, streaming music had turned anodyne—a vehicle for vibes, not for active listening. A single road trip with the Velvet Sundown was enough to prove this point: A major subset of the music that we listen to today might as well have been made by a machine.

I don't understand streaming music as a concept. My collection of individual tracks stands at about 1,700 (clocking in at 190 hours -- that is 22 hours more than a week), and there are several full albums atop that.

In my 40s, new music discovery has been a low priority, but if I'm really in the mood, I'll find a weekly radio mix from known quality DJs and hop over to Beatport if something moves me.

The use case for streaming is ... you don't want to choose what you listen to, pay monthly for stuff you'll never own and pay for a higher data plan? That sounds like radio with really expensive extra steps (I ceased listening to the radio after being thrust into the rave scene in the late '90s, and through interactions with others came to the conclusion that I was missing out on nothing.).

I'm sure "AI" can produce perfectly milquetoast music, but are you ever going to want to listen again? I have tracks I've listened to hundreds of times because they mean something to me emotionally (and often have a temporal element wherein I remember where I was living and what I was doing the first time I heard it) -- and most of my tracks do not have lyrics.

Layering nonsensical lyrics atop forgettable melodies sounds more like torture than a service providing any value.

Barack Obama, the former US president, sounded the alarm about Joe Biden’s ailing re-election bid almost a year before polling day, warning his former vice-president’s staff “your campaign is a mess”, a new book reveals.

The intervention came amid tensions between the Obama and Biden camps as they braced for a tough fight against Donald Trump. In the end, the ageing Biden withdrew from the race in favor of his vice-president, Kamala Harris, who was defeated by Trump.

Obama’s prescient anxiety is captured in the upcoming book 2024: How Trump Retook the White House and the Democrats Lost America by journalists Josh Dawsey, Tyler Pager and Isaac Arnsdorf, a copy of which was obtained by the Guardian.

The authors describe how Biden, trailing in opinion polls, kept hearing complaints from congressional Democrats that his campaign lacked a presence in their district. His staff in Wilmington, Delaware, were “despondent” and the president confided in one aide: “I have a leadership problem on the campaign.”

Reporting Highlights

Winning Record: In the Texas Capitol, where the vast majority of bills fail to pass, all but three of Elon Musk’s public priorities became law this legislative session.

Company Gains: Musk’s wins include laws that will benefit companies like SpaceX and Tesla.

Playing the Long Game: Musk has steadily invested his personal and professional capital in Texas over more than a decade. Most of his businesses are now headquartered here.

In an era when a cold beer and a hot dog define the quintessential baseball experience, it’s hard to imagine a time when the former could cause an all-out riot. But the annals of baseball history are not only filled with double plays and home runs; they also record moments when the game spiraled out of control. One such incident, the infamous “Ten Cent Beer Night,” is a tale of caution recounted with both horror and fascination by the channel Weird History, and detailed by Grace Johnson and Samuel Trunley in an article for the Encyclopedia of Cleveland History.

The promotion by the Cleveland Indians (now Guardians) was deceptively simple: entice fans to a baseball game by offering Stroh’s beer cans for just 10 cents, significantly below the standard price of 65 cents. On June 4, 1974, this ploy worked a little too well. The Indians were in a slump, and a Tuesday night game would usually draw a crowd of 12,000 to 13,000 fans. That night, the lure of cheap beer attracted over 25,000 spectators, who consumed an estimated 60,000 cups of beer.

The stage was set for chaos even before the first pitch. Earlier that season, the Indians and the Texas Rangers had been involved in a heated brawl, leaving tensions high. Add to that the social conditions in Cleveland—economic downturn, factory closures, environmental crises—and you had the perfect storm for trouble.

UW college roommate just sent this my way after we were talking about nickel beer night a mile or two from the ASU campus.

I'd not yet seen Mamdani in a sit-down interview. He gives off strong Obama vibes.

Because if there's one person I want to start a third party, it's Elon Musk.

Elon Musk has vowed to unseat lawmakers who support Donald Trump’s sweeping budget bill, which he has criticized because it would increase the country’s deficit by $3.3tn.

“Every member of Congress who campaigned on reducing government spending and then immediately voted for the biggest debt increase in history should hang their head in shame! And they will lose their primary next year if it is the last thing I do on this Earth,” he wrote on his social media platform, X.

A few hours later he added that if “insane spending bill passes, the America Party will be formed the next day”.

With these threats, lobbed at lawmakers over social media, the tech billionaire has launched himself back into a rift with the US president he helped prop up. Since taking leave from his so-called “department of government efficiency”, or Doge, Musk has sharply criticized Trump’s budget bill, which he has said will undermine his work at Doge by increasing spending.

Can't we just ship Cruz off to Cancun permanently at this point?

Sen. Ted Cruz (R-Texas) has a plan for spectrum auctions that could take frequencies away from Wi-Fi and reallocate them for the exclusive use of wireless carriers. The plan would benefit AT&T, which is based in Cruz's home state, along with Verizon and T-Mobile.

Cruz's proposal revives a years-old controversy over whether the entire 6 GHz band should be devoted to Wi-Fi, which can use the large spectrum band for faster speeds than networks that rely solely on the 2.4 and 5 GHz bands. Congress is on the verge of passing legislation that would require spectrum to be auctioned off for full-power, commercially licensed use, and the question is where that spectrum will come from.

When the House of Representatives passed its so-called "One Big Beautiful Bill," it excluded all of the frequencies between 5.925 and 7.125 gigahertz from the planned spectrum auctions. But Cruz's version of the budget reconciliation bill, which is moving quickly toward a final vote, removed the 6 GHz band's protection from spectrum auctions. The Cruz bill is also controversial because it would penalize states that regulate artificial intelligence.

Instead of excluding the 6 GHz band from auctions, Cruz's bill would instead exclude the 7.4–8.4 GHz band used by the military. Under conditions set by the bill, it could be hard for the Commerce Department and Federal Communications Commission to fulfill the Congressional mandate without taking some spectrum away from Wi-Fi.

A leading UN expert is calling for criminal penalties against those peddling disinformation about the climate crisis and a total ban on fossil fuel industry lobbying and advertising, as part of a radical shake-up to safeguard human rights and curtail planetary catastrophe.

Elisa Morgera, the UN special rapporteur on human rights and climate change who presents her damning new report to the general assembly in Geneva on Monday, argues that the US, UK, Canada, Australia and other wealthy fossil fuel nations are legally obliged under international law to fully phase out oil, gas and coal by 2030 – and compensate communities for harms caused.

Fracking, oil sands and gas flaring should be banned, as should fossil fuel exploration, subsidies, investments and false tech solutions that will lock in future generations to polluting and increasingly costly oil, gas and coal.

“Despite overwhelming evidence of the interlinked, intergenerational, severe and widespread human rights impacts of the fossil fuel life cycle … these countries have and are still accruing enormous profits from fossil fuels, and are still not taking decisive action,” said Morgera, professor of global environmental law at the University of Strathclyde.

Yes, it's a pipe dream to expect any of this, let alone all of it, but allowing corporations an exclusive microphone moves the needle in the wrong direction.

I consider no activity more luxurious than posting up at a bar solo with a good book. The creasing of a paperback in one hand, the weight of a wine glass in the other, the feeling of being alone in a crowd of people all make for a lovely evening. Or at least, I thought so, until recently, when two twentysomethings approached me during this ritual. “Are you reading alone?” one asked. “I could neverrrr,” the other said, and then uttered the universal mean girl slight: “I wish I had your confidence.”

Reading in public – not cool. Or at least “performative reading”, as it’s been dubbed on social media, is worthy of ridicule.

Not long ago, during the peak years of corny millennial humor, we celebrated @HotDudesReading, an Instagram account-turned-book that showed attractive men toting books on trains and park benches. Now, god forbid anyone (hot dudes included) enjoy a moment of escapism during the capitalist grind, or else they might end up in someone’s mocking post. To quote the caption of one popular meme depicting an anonymous train passenger reading a Brit lit classic: “Poser art himbo on the subway barely 10 pages into his performative copy of Frankenstein.”

Stephen Hawking, a British physicist and arguably the most famous man suffering from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), communicated with the world using a sensor installed in his glasses. That sensor used tiny movements of a single muscle in his cheek to select characters on a screen. Once he typed a full sentence at a rate of roughly one word per minute, the text was synthesized into speech by a DECtalk TC01 synthesizer, which gave him his iconic, robotic voice.

But a lot has changed since Hawking died in 2018. Recent brain-computer-interface (BCI) devices have made it possible to translate neural activity directly into text and even speech. Unfortunately, these systems had significant latency, often limiting the user to a predefined vocabulary, and they did not handle nuances of spoken language like pitch or prosody. Now, a team of scientists at the University of California, Davis has built a neural prosthesis that can instantly translate brain signals into sounds—phonemes and words. It may be the first real step we have taken toward a fully digital vocal tract.

Some interesting developments here that definitely seem to advance the state of the art.