An unpublished government report on feral deer shows Australia is failing in its efforts to stop the spread of what one advocate warns could become “Australia’s next feral pig”.
The five years from 2020-2025 over which the national feral deer action plan was assessed covers a period in which the famously elusive species has increasingly encroached upon major cities, leading to more frequent encounters – including a memorable occasion in which two men in various degrees of undress were fined after becoming lost in the bush when they were spooked by deer while nude sunbathing.
CLIVE, Iowa–Republican Iowa gubernatorial candidate Zach Lahn took aim at the establishment media during a Make Iowa Healthy Again rally on Wednesday, accusing the press of contributing to public forgetfulness about the past and what is at stake ahead of the midterm elections, while Steak 'n Shake Chief MAHA Officer Michael Boes challenged media portrayals of the Trump administration's efforts to improve Americans' health.
Republican Iowa gubernatorial candidate Zach Lahn vowed to protect girls’ sports, keep age-inappropriate books addressing transgender topics out of elementary schools, and safeguard unborn children during a recent gubernatorial debate, emphasizing the importance of protecting vulnerable populations and preserving Western cultural institutions.
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with O'Shea Jackson, known professionally as Ice Cube, a 57-year-old rapper, actor, and cofounder of the professional three-on-three basketball league Big3, who is based in Los Angeles. The following has been edited for length and clarity.
I started out wanting to be the best rapper in the world. Then John Singleton put me in "Boyz n the Hood" in 1991, and I loved creating at that level. I didn't just want to be an actor; I wanted to be a producer and a writer. I wanted to control my own films and be involved in record company meetings. That thrust me into the business world.
I understand, from the neighborhood I come from in South Central Los Angeles, that if you don't learn the game, you're going to get taken advantage of. I knew that if I really wanted to be a solo artist and didn't want to be a horror story at the end of my career, I needed to learn the business. That's when I started transitioning to working behind the scenes.
In 2016, my cofounder, Jeff Kwatinetz, and I had the idea to start a professional three-on-three basketball league. We spent a year throwing around ideas for it before announcing Big3 in January 2017.
I love three-on-three, and I've always wondered why it hasn't been professionalized. We wanted to elevate it and attract players who still want to play at a high level against their peers in the summer. I also still rap and act, and I haven't looked back.
Here's a day in my life in Los Angeles.
5 a.m. — my goldendoodle wakes me up
My goldendoodle, Luffy, and I wake up at the same time, or one of us wakes the other up. He's a year old, so he's still got puppy energy. My wife, Kimberly, and my four kids watch an anime where the lead character's name is Luffy, which is how he got the name.
I've been an early riser ever since I was young. I like to wake up before everybody — sometimes two hours before my family — to hyper-focus on anything that needs my undivided attention. The East Coast is three hours ahead of us anyway, so I don't want to be late talking to people there.
7 .a.m. — coffee and walking Luffy
I usually make myself coffee at home. I'm a fan of Peet's dark roast. Then I take Luffy for a walk.
I'm not big on working out early in the morning, so I try to exercise in the evenings. To me, the morning is for coffee, enjoying being alive, and being happy that I get another chance to see another day.
I'm not a big breakfast guy, so I usually don't eat until late afternoon.
8 a.m. — thinking in the shower
Most of my ideas come when I'm in the shower. They'll just flood me with everything I need to get done, almost in order: you gotta have that, you gotta have that, stop procrastinating on this, get to that. The shower is where I get a lot of my clarity.
9 .a.m. — prioritizing my schedule from my home studio and office
I don't go into the office — I stopped doing that in 1999. I'm not built to be in the office. I'm a remote kind of guy.
I've got a spot in my house that's a studio and office. A lot of work gets done in there, including new music. It's cool to have it all in one place.
Because I'm splitting my time between Big3, music, films, and other things, I have to really plan the day and prioritize. There are things that have to get done today and things that can wait until tomorrow, so it's about deciphering what needs my immediate attention and focus.
10 a.m. — meetings focused on wherever I am
When I'm traveling, my day can vary a lot. I have a lot of meetings on my iPhone and Zoom, so I plan them around whatever I'm there to do.
If I'm on tour, everything has to come after what I have to do that night and the focus I need to give to the live performance. I've tried to do a movie in the daytime and go to the studio at night, and something suffers.
You don't want to spread the work too thin, either, just because you can. You want everything to still be as top-notch and good as you can make it. That takes discipline.
12 p.m. — ordering lunch and trying not to succumb to burgers
When it's time to eat, the first thing that pops into my head is always burgers. I try to push burgers aside and think of something different, like a Greek salad wrap. Otherwise, I'd go for burgers and fries all the time.
1 p.m. — checking out social media and executing on projects
I look at a lot of social media to figure out my next move. Social media-wise, I still like X, Instagram, YouTube, and TikTok. I'm not a big-time Facebook guy. I also don't use any AI apps.
I have several projects, and they're each in one of three stages: planning, execution, and follow-through. There's always work to be done. I've been in business for 40 years — I've seen it all. Nothing gets me too high, and nothing gets me too low.
I'm always looking for the most strategic way out of a sticky, complicated, or bad day. I don't really let it stress me, because I always know there's a solution.
6:30 p.m. — shut down business and hang with my family
It's crazy for somebody in the music industry, where mostly everything happens late at night, but it's for my sanity.
When it comes to my off time, people think I'd be out enjoying being Ice Cube, running around and getting the love that's out there, but I like kicking it with my family, hanging out, and not doing too much. A typical dinner is going to a steakhouse with my family, or to a burger joint if I'm on the road.
To unwind, I like to watch sports. Hopefully, there's a game on that I want to see: basketball, football, a Big3 game, or baseball. I'm a Dodgers guy.
11 p.m. — try to get to bed
I don't like to talk about stuff late at night, because then I'll be up all night, and I have to be back up in a few hours. I don't need much sleep, about five or six hours, but I make sure I get it.
Some days, I'm off to do something super cool, like a concert or a movie in France. It's important to balance the craziness with the regular, sensible stuff.
My life can be very exciting and complicated at times, and very simple and normal at other times. It's the best of both worlds.
A majestic tract of land in far north Queensland that links wet tropics and world heritage rainforest, and contains headwaters that flow to the Great Barrier Reef, could be bought and protected by Christmas, after a conservation group raised more than $19m in private donations to buy the cattle station.
Wooroora spans more than 20,000 hectares of largely intact wet sclerophyll forest and savanna woodland on the lands of the Jirrbal people about 100km south-west of Cairns – and borders Bush Heritage’s existing 43,575-hectare Yourka Reserve in one of the most biodiverse regions in Australia.
Every autumn, Corvo Island in the Azores turns off its public lighting for a few key days to help fledgling Cory’s shearwaters as they attempt to fly to the ocean guided by the stars
Once a year, Corvo, the smallest and most northerly island of Portugal’s Azores archipelago, goes dark. Since 2019, the island’s 450 or so inhabitants have chosen to switch off the lights every autumn for five nights to tackle the disastrous effects of artificial light on Cory’s shearwaters, a seabird endemic to the Atlantic Ocean.
It began in 1991 when the community noticed huge numbers of deaths among young shearwaters.
Brian Rooney and his late wife, Tina, who died in 2013.
Courtesy of Brian Rooney
Brian Rooney, 60, filed for Chapter 7 bankruptcy in 2024.
During his late wife's illness, he built up medical and credit-card debt.
After she died, the grief made it difficult for him to sustain his business.
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Brian Rooney, the 60-year-old founder of Chapter7Reset.com, who lives in Conroe, Texas. He lost his wife in 2013. The essay has been edited for length and clarity, and the details verified.
When you're grieving, you're not thinking about how to move a business forward, capture new market share, or adapt to new technologies. You're not thinking straight because you're overwhelmed by a cloud of loss, pain, and sorrow. Some days, you're just trying to get through morning to night.
In 2013, I lost my wife, my partner, and my life. I still had to deal with the financial reality. I had underestimated what grief would do to my ability to run a business.
Tina was the yin to my yang
My wife, Tina, and I had 24 great years together. She was the yin to my yang. We met through a mutual friend, got to know each other, and fell in love. She was a strong, independent thinker. She was loving, kept me in check, and was an outstanding mother.
Our five kids were all born close together, and I was very involved in their lives. One of the reasons I started a business was because I wanted to be the dad who could be at home, coach my sons in basketball, and play in recitals with my daughter.
We'd tried both working early on, but Tina stopped early on in our relationship. I was the breadwinner, and she managed the kids.
I launched my email-marketing business in 2000. For a time, it did very, very well.
Brian Rooney and his late wife, Tina, were together for 24 years.
Courtesy of Brian Rooney
My wife was diagnosed with cancer
In 2011, things felt almost too good to be true. Then Tina noticed a little bump in the roof of her mouth. She went to the dentist; they did a biopsy, and we didn't think too much about it. Weeks later, I was sitting in my home office when she came over with the phone. With a very disturbed look, she said, "I have cancer."
Our lives turned upside down.
At first, because the cancer wasn't very aggressive, we tried homeopathic remedies. Then came chemotherapy, radiation, and major surgeries. The treatments were costly, and while the Affordable Care Act covered quite a bit, we still had high deductibles. Some hospitals wouldn't admit her until the deductible had been paid.
I would sit at the table with spreadsheets, trying to work out the finances. I was trying to be strong for my wife, but sometimes I'd go to the corner of the room and cry. The unspeakable thing to consider was that I might lose my wife because I couldn't afford to pay for it all.
Brian and Tina Rooney had five kids.
Courtesy of Brian Rooney
A lot of the medical bills were paid with credit cards, and we ran up a lot of credit-card debt. I had six mouths to feed, for which I relied mostly on credit cards. I sold my music gear, like my guitars and amps. We moved from a beautiful rental house in a nice area of Texas to a much less expensive apartment. We weren't going to shows, basketball games, or on trips. None of that bothered me. The focus was on getting Mama healthy.
Friends and family stepped in here and there to help out. My kids were approaching adulthood, so they didn't need much looking after, but working from home let me adjust my schedule as needed.
I couldn't keep the business moving forward
There were days when I couldn't touch the business. It was mostly automated, but there were things I needed to step in and manage. If a server went down, I'd need to stay up all night to fix it while checking on my wife in the other room.
I wasn't resting or sleeping. I wasn't able to drive the business forward.
During that time, the industry was changing. New technology became available, and we weren't able to keep up. I was so focused on Tina's care that we missed opportunities. We had contractors and a business partner, and I wish I'd outsourced a lot faster. I didn't realize how fast I was losing.
I became a widower at 47
Tina Rooney died at 49.
Courtesy of Brian Rooney
Tina died in November 2013. She was 49, and I was a 47-year-old widower.
Those first few weeks, I'd wake up, roll over, realize she wasn't there, and know that she never would be again. I would talk myself out of bed, one body part at a time.
The business was still there. My business partner was focused on the technical side, but I had the marketing and entrepreneurial mindset. A lot of things that needed to get done didn't get done. Honestly, at that point, I didn't care. It was a dark time for me
I wanted a clean slate
The business was declining, and meanwhile, I'd built up hundreds of thousands of dollars in credit-card and medical debt. I thought I could put everything on my credit cards, turn things around, and pay it down. Things never turned around, and as the business continued to decline, there was less money to draw from it.
In 2021, I got remarried. My second wife knew about the financial mess I was in. The interest and penalties were compounding so quickly. There was constant pressure from phone calls, letters, and demands for payment. I wanted relief and a clean slate.
In early 2024, after speaking with my business partner, we decided to dissolve the business. Later that year, I filed for Chapter 7 bankruptcy.
I felt both relief and shame after filing for bankruptcy
When I filed for bankruptcy, I had no assets because I'd sold them all to pay my bills. When the debt was wiped out, I felt relief and shame, but the relief took over once I stopped getting phone calls and letters.
It was time to rebuild. I got a sales job, which I hadn't had in decades. I did AI certification training and started rebuilding my credit with credit-rebuilding cards. I launched ChapterSevenReset.com, a free guide to help people in a similar position.
One of the hardest lessons was that we didn't have a life-insurance policy on Tina. It never dawned on me because she wasn't contributing financially. I never considered how caring for her and my grief would take away from my generating income. My second wife and I both have life insurance policies for each other.
Nowadays, my friends say the "old Brian" is back. I've made peace, as best you can, with the fact that Tina is gone. I'm like an amputee. There's a part of me that's missing, and that part will always be missing. It itches. It's always there.
In states like Florida, officers who hand out fishing citations and inspect produce have been deputized by Immigration and Customs Enforcement, expanding the reach of President Trump’s deportation campaign.
A canal in Dania Beach, Fla., in September. The canal was the site of an encounter that led Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission officers to contact federal immigration authorities.
Amelia Quest, a 27-year-old Instagram star with over a million followers, says she can climax in just 90 seconds. To top it off, she said she can do it without a man too
The Cali Fund, set up to raise $1bn a year for biodiversity from drug companies, remains near empty
Big pharmaceutical companies have been accused of “free-riding on nature”, after a landmark biodiversity fund that invites businesses to put some of their profits back into conservation was left virtually empty.
The Cali Fund set out to raise $1bn (£750m) annually, by asking companies that profit from nature’s genetics to contribute towards conservation in low-income countries. But more than 18 months after the fund was launched, it remains far below this target.
With the A.I. boom driving up prices, the city is subsidizing child care for households with high incomes. Even with the help, families say they are struggling.
Natsumi Makiyama and John Marman, a married couple in San Francisco, together make just under $235,000, qualifying them for free child care under a city program.
Login
