This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here.
A man with the power to destroy the entire world announces that no one and nothing can restrain him. “I can do whatever I want,” he says. Raised without love, he has become both omnipotent and neurotic. Unfortunately, his inner circle is a group of hapless subordinates who are scared to death of him.

Immigration and Customs Enforcement held a hiring expo this week outside Dallas at a place called the Esports Stadium. Set between the Texas Rangers ballpark and the roller coasters of Six Flags, the arena was built for video-game competitions, and a wall of bright-blue screens welcomed job candidates at the entrance. “With honor and integrity, we will safeguard the American people, our homeland and our values,” one message read.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is coming undone. The White House announced last night that it had ousted the agency’s newly sworn-in director, Susan Monarez, whose lawyers insist that she still has her job because only President Donald Trump himself can fire her. (Yes, it’s a mess.) Four top officials resigned yesterday.

This is an edition of Time-Travel Thursdays, a journey through The Atlantic’s archives to contextualize the present. Sign up here.
Mindfulness is hardly a new idea—when have we not wanted to live more vividly in the present?—but the search for a balanced life has never required so many devices. The word itself has become something of a catchall recently, calling forth an entire industry of platforms, wearable tech, and wellness gurus.

On July 8, New Mexico’s Rio Ruidoso unbound from its banks for the second year in a row and swelled to 20 times its typical knee-high depth. The cascade of water roared like a train, Kathy Papasan, a longtime resident on the river’s edge, told me, and dark waves battered her porch. She and her husband had to flee uphill to a neighbor’s house.

This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here.
The fried chickens have come home to roost. Cracker Barrel is reverting to its old logo, fewer than 10 days after announcing a new, stripped-down version. The ensuing controversy has been at once a welcome distraction from other news and an outgrowth of all the most annoying impulses in American life.

The mosquitoes and the National Guard were out, but it was otherwise a perfect day in the capital. Clear and sunny, not too hot: baseball weather. The first pitch was at about 9:30 in the morning. A player waiting in the dugout yammered “Whaddaya say, whaddaya say” before nearly every pitch. Another, after working a long at-bat and winning a walk, celebrated by turning to her teammates and tossing her bat gently toward them with both hands, palms up, like she was presenting them with a gift.