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If you share a recipe for or photo of fried rice in China on November 25th, you may get a visit from the authorities. To understand why, you have to go back 75 years. North Korea, backed by the Soviet Union and China, launched a surprise invasion into South Korea, hoping to unify the Korean peninsula. More than three years and as many as three million lives later, the two sides signed an armistice. One of the lives lost was Mao Anying, the oldest son of the chairman of China’s Communist Party, Mao Zedong. His death has become a major moment in the narrative shared by Chinese dissidents today, who celebrate November 25 as China’s Thanksgiving Day. But because of censorship, those who want to mark the day do so by sharing a fried rice recipe or pictures of the dish. It’s a reference to the mythic story behind Anying’s demise, which says he was trying to cook fried rice, and the smoke from the fire exposed his position. (via Now I Know)

He popularized a famous Italian coffee pot and when he died he was buried in one

Renato Bialetti, the Italian businessman who turned an aluminum coffee pot into a classic global design, died last week at the age of 93. In accordance with his and his family’s wishes, his ashes were interred in an urn shaped like a large version of a Moka pot, the stovetop coffee maker he introduced to the world. Bialetti didn’t invent the Moka. He just made it famous. A man named Luigi di Ponti designed the appliance in 1933 and sold the patent to Renato’s father Alfonso Bialetti, an aluminum vendor. Sales lagged under the elder Bialetti, but Renato had bigger, coffee-scented dreams when he took over the business in the 1940s. He spearheaded a massive marketing campaign across Italy for the pots, which were branded with a charmingly mustachioed caricature—based either on himself or his father, depending on the legend you read. (via Quartz)

Note: This is a version of my When The Going Gets Weird newsletter, which I send out via Ghost, the open-source publishing platform. You can see other issues and sign up here.

My last Torment Nexus piece was about how weak the FTC’s antitrust case against Meta was, weak enough that it was thrown out by a federal court judge. But don’t take that argument as evidence that I am a Meta fan — far from it. It may not be a monopoly, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t harmful and in some cases actually dangerous. The one I have the most experience with is the situation in Myanmar, where Facebook ignored the signs that its platform was being used to promote violence against the Rohingya population in that country, and ignored them for so long that a United Nations panel came to the conclusion that the company enabled a genocide that killed thousands and left thousands more maimed and homeless. Did Facebook deliberately do this? Of course not. They’re not monsters (or at least not that specific kind of monster). Instead, they simply overlooked the evidence in front of them, or more likely decided it wasn’t important enough to get in the way of the platform’s growth and engagement goals.

Whenever something like this happens — not just with Facebook, but plenty of other tech companies — the response has become a kind of ritualized theater performance, a stylized exercise of going through the motions without any real outcome or change. In Meta’s case, it involves Mark Zuckerberg or some other functionary from Facebook or Instagram commenting in the press about something hateful or dangerous that its platform enabled, and then in some cases appearing before Congress, shamefaced and sometimes truculent about the said wrongdoing. Zuckerberg or his stand-in will say that they are sorry, and that they had no idea that (insert hateful or dangerous conduct here) was being enabled by the platform. At some point, months or even years later, it will be revealed that Facebook or Instagram knew exactly what was happening and chose not to do anything about it, or at least nothing substantive anyway.

One of the examples of this that I am the most familiar with was when former Facebook staffer Frances Haugen blew the whistle on the company’s behavior involving young and mostly female users of Instagram, in 2021. According to the thousands of pages of internal documents that Haugen took with her when she left the company — which were shared with the Wall Street Journal and other outlets, as well as with members of Congress — Meta senior executives knew from their internal research that Instagram was increasingly linked to emotional distress and body-image issues among young women. As Haugen described in an interview with me at the Mesh conference in 2023, she and a number of other staffers worked on ways of trying to reduce or even eliminate this problem, but time and again their work was ignored — because doing so might decrease engagement or interfere with Meta’s growth and revenue targets. So did Meta know? Yes. Did they care? No. Or, at least not enough to do anything about it.

Note: This is a version of my Torment Nexus newsletter, which I send out via Ghost, the open-source publishing platform. You can see other issues and sign up here.

After the 1913 death of Horace Vose, the traditional provider of the White House Thanksgiving turkey, numerous farmers sent animals to the president for Thanksgiving dinner. In 1926, a Mississippi supporter sent a racoon. Coolidge, who had never eaten raccoon and had no appetite to try it, kept the racoon as a pet and named it Rebecca. For Christmas, an embroidered collar was made for Rebecca, inscribed “White House Raccoon”. She enjoyed participating in the annual White House Easter egg roll. She was fed shrimp and persimmons, and eggs were a favorite. Rebecca was let loose in the White House and walked on a leash outdoors. At times, she could be mischievous and was known to unscrew lightbulbs, open cabinets, and unpot houseplants. She was known to nestle in Coolidge’s lap when he sat by the fireplace. (via Wikipedia)

The story behind Alexander Fleming’s discovery of penicillin has a bunch of holes in it

Many know the story of Alexander Fleming’s chance discovery of penicillin. Fleming left culture plates streaked with Staphylococcus on his lab bench while he went away. When he returned, he found that “a mould” had contaminated one of his plates, having floated in from an open window. He noticed that, within a “ring of death” around the mold, the bacteria had disappeared. Fleming immediately began investigating this strange new substance. He identified the mold as Penicillium rubrum and named the substance penicillin. A decade later, pharmacologist Howard Florey and biochemist Ernst Chain at Oxford would pick up where Fleming left off, developing penicillin into a life-saving drug and usher in the era of antibiotics. This is the kind of science story everyone likes. One of serendipity and accidental discovery; a chance observation that changed the world. But is it true? For decades, scientists and historians have puzzled over inconsistencies in Fleming’s story. (via Asimov Press)

Note: This is a version of my When The Going Gets Weird newsletter, which I send out via Ghost, the open-source publishing platform. You can see other issues and sign up here.