Norovirus loves a cruise ship. So did the coronavirus responsible for COVID-19. The crowded rooms, stuffy air, and communal dining of a giant boat filled with humans create the ideal conditions for pathogens to spread.

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By the United States military’s estimation, about 1,550 marine vessels—oil tankers, bulk carriers, container ships, and more—are idling in the Persian Gulf right now.

Every year, the Met Gala—the opulent celebration of the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute—unveils a theme with a dress code that its famous attendees then attempt to interpret. And every year, many of the guests fail the assignment: They arrive in a superficial take on “punk” or an awkward rendition of “dandyism,” if they don’t veer off course completely. (See: various questionable efforts to capture the 2019 theme, “camp.”) It’s a treat, then, when someone gets it just right.

The debate over Israel’s war with Hamas has been unusually vicious in Ann Arbor, Michigan, where pro-Palestine activists have vandalized, spat on, and menaced targets they deemed too Zionist.

The Voting Rights Act of 1965 did not die all at once, or by one means. It died through attrition: a Congress that was too sclerotic and polarized to defend one of its finest accomplishments, lawyers and academics who tolerated retreats on civil rights, a society that lapsed into the comfortable illusion that it had accomplished the work of the civil-rights movement. And it died through action: a series of blows from conservative justices ideologically hostile to the law’s aims.