Google and Disney Sever Ties With YouTube Star PewDiePie Over Anti-Semitic Videos

One of the videos in question, which has not yet been taken down, is a prank video in which Kjellberg pays two men to hold up a sign that reads “Death to All Jews” via the freelance website Fiverr. Felix Kjellberg, the Swedish YouTube star better known by his alias, PewDiePie, has lost contracts with Google and Disney after a Wall Street Journal report pointed out anti-Semitic language and imagery in his videos. The Wall Street Journal flagged nine videos, three of which have reportedly since been pulled from the site, as having anti-Semitic or Nazi-related comments and imagery. “As laughable as it is to believe that I might actually endorse these people, to anyone unsure on my standpoint regarding hate-based groups: No, I don’t support these people in any way.” A spokesperson told Variety: “Although Felix has created a following by being provocative and irreverent, he clearly went too far in this case and the resulting videos are inappropriate. Maker Studios has made the decision to end our affiliation with him going forward.”
Google-owned YouTube followed suit, cancelling the second season of Kjellberg’s reality show, Scare PewDiePie (which is produced by The Walking Dead’s Robert Kirkman) and removing him from Google Preferred, an aggregate program that connects advertisers with YouTube’s most popular channels. I think of the content that I create as entertainment, and not a place for any serious political commentary,” he wrote. Disney-owned Maker Studios was the first to sever ties, according to the Journal, apparently in response to the publication’s inquiries. Kjellberg’s channel, which features a mix of humor, opinion, and gaming videos, has the most subscribers on YouTube with more than 53 million. Google had previously removed ads from some of the videos. Kjellberg responded to the controversy in a Tumblr post. “I make videos for my audience. “I didn’t think they would actually do it,” Kjellberg says in the video, after the men display the sign and begin dancing.

Stephen Colbert Is Now the Most Popular Person in Late Night

Given the anticipation surrounding Colbert’s launch a year and a half ago, The Late Show’s initial ratings drop made clear that audiences weren’t connecting with him. They’re looking, quite specifically, for a smart, calming, and nuanced voice like Colbert’s. The initial buzz around his transition to a broadcast network died down quickly, and Late Show’s ratings dropped with it. It’s been a long road to success for Colbert since taking over for David Letterman. His daily tackling of Trump’s endlessly scandalous presidency remains sharp, to be sure, but it can also be cleverly light-hearted in execution. But where other comics like Seth Meyers have built esteem through forceful daily denunciations of the new administration—and where Fallon’s stridently apolitical approach suddenly feels insufficient (and disingenuous) already—Colbert offers a different brand of resistance: relief. According to Nielsen ratings data, the CBS late-night staple averaged a little more than three million viewers per night last week, 134,000 greater than Fallon’s average and the largest margin of victory for Colbert’s Late Show since it premiered in Sept. 2015. But the show improved over time, with Colbert emphasizing his political savvy and bringing a uniquely intelligent sensibility to the rote late-night routines of celebrity interviews and throwaway bits. The beginning of the new Late Show was marked by an awkward balance. Stephen Colbert’s Late Show is now the most popular show in late-night, besting The Tonight Show With Jimmy Fallon in total Live+same day viewers for two weeks running. Colbert’s increasing strength in the late-night space speaks, undeniably, to his critical focus on President Trump. He doesn’t convey anger so much as he does bemusement—and in turn, he offers a distinctly comforting experience for viewers of his political ilk already overwhelmed by the news of the day. That’s why the news of Colbert’s nosing ahead is so significant. Indeed, three months into Colbert’s tenure, The Late Show was in a virtual tie for second in the ratings with ABC’s Jimmy Kimmel Live!, with NBC’s Tonight Show consistently running the table. Viewers aren’t merely ready for more aggressively political content. In a firm signal of the change in direction, The Late Show brought in new leadership in April 2016, naming CBS This Morning’s Chris Licht as showrunner, and it’s been on an upward ratings trend roughly since then. Over its first 12 months, Colbert’s show averaged nearly a million viewers less than Fallon’s. Colbert’s muted comedic approach resonated with neither his left-leaning fanbase nor the relatively apolitical CBS viewers he was vying to reach.

Rachel Lindsay Will Be the First Ever Black Bachelorette

The Bachelor has also never had a black lead and has had only one lead of color, Juan Pablo Galavis, in 2014, making Lindsay’s appointment even more historic for the franchise. “Honestly, it’s not going to be that different from any other season of The Bachelorette.” It’s official: For the first time ever, we’re getting a black Bachelorette. “I’m ready to find love, find a husband,” said Lindsay. And Dungey’s plan seems to have been successful, since Lindsay is a fan favorite on the current season with Viall, the most diverse ever. “I’m happy to represent myself as a black woman in front of America and I’m happy for America to rally behind me and see what it’s like for me to be on this journey to find love,” Lindsay told People of the historic casting. ABC Entertainment president Channing Dungey told Deadline in August that the show was laying the groundwork for a woman of color on the Bachelorette by diversifying the pool of candidates on The Bachelor, since the lead for one is usually chosen from among the other’s runners-up. Reports that current Bachelor contestant Rachel Lindsay would be the next lead on the reality dating competition were confirmed on Monday night, with Bachelor/Bachelorette host Chris Harrison helping make the announcement on Jimmy Kimmel Live. Even UnReal, the fictional Lifetime series about a Bachelor-style reality show, beat The Bachelorette to the punch last year when they put a black bachelor at the center of their fake dating competition, Everlasting. In 2012, a judge dismissed a lawsuit against ABC and the producers of both Bachelor shows alleging that people of color were being deliberately excluded from the casting process and eliminated earlier than their white counterparts. “I guess it’s safe to say your hometown date with Nick [Viall] did not go as planned?” asked Kimmel, to which Lindsay shrugged. Lindsay will not only be the first black woman to lead the Bachelorette, but the first black lead on either of ABC’s reality dating competitions. “So if you know anybody out there who needs to apply, sign up.”
Lindsay says she was approached for the job shortly after exiting The Bachelor and joked that she originally thought the offer was a consolation prize “for the heartbreak.” The decision to announce Linday’s casting weeks before the finale of the current Bachelor season, while she is still on the show, is an unusual one, with the urgency perhaps motivated by the show’s controversial history with lack of diversity. Lindsay, a lawyer from Texas, is currently a contestant on this season of The Bachelor, which is still airing, so the announcement means she’s not this season’s winner.

Accusing NBC of Censorship, Nick Cannon Quits America’s Got Talent: “I Will Not Stand for It”

But I can’t say that. The television personality’s departure comes in the wake of controversial comments he made in Stand Up, Don’t Shoot, his recent Showtime comedy special, where he went long on a bit about feeling censored—as a black comic—by executives at his own network. I can’t talk like that. I will not stand for it.”
A replacement for Cannon has not been named, and the series’ judges—Heidi Klum, Simon Cowell, Howie Mandel, and Mel B.—are all expected to return. “My soul won’t allow me to be in business with corporations that attempt to frown on freedom of speech, censor artists, and question cultural choices,” Cannon wrote early Monday morning. “Sometimes I wish I could say the stuff I really want to say,” he said on stage. “Not to get too detailed but this isn’t the first time executives have attempted to ‘put me in my place’ for so called unruly actions. Like, This next crazy motherf—er coming to the stage gonna be juggling blindfolded with knives and shit, so n—as be careful! “Y’all see my face on America’s Got Talent? That would mess up the white money.”
Cannon announced his decision in a lengthy Facebook post, where he implied that he chose to get out ahead of the rumor that NBC was considering terminating his contract for his disparaging remarks. After eight years of hosting, Nick Cannon has abruptly quit NBC’s long-running competition series America’s Got Talent.

30 Years Later, RoboCop Is More Relevant Than Ever

After a rocky period as a warrior against criminality, he turns on his masters and regains his individual dignity. Alas, it lacks any of the visceral criticism of its forebear, opting instead to celebrate generic cop work done with fancy toys. That is, in a way, the tragedy of RoboCop—you really do have to pay attention to get it. Such overcompensating intensity feels especially chilling in the Trump era. Now, that’s barely an extrapolation—it’s a serious proposal made by a startling number of America’s most powerful industrialists. The Peter Thiels and Tim Drapers of the world have, in their infinite wisdom, concluded that government more or less doesn’t work and that folks would be far better-served if they were part of an entirely private polity that values entrepreneurship above conventional citizenship. He bursts into an attempted convenience-store stickup and viciously beats the gunman, then, without attending to him medically, bids the owners a calm “Thank you for your cooperation” and walks out. They could not give less of a shit about the actual police, who are planning a strike, and when one of the boys in blue gets shot to pieces by an OCP-allied gangster, his brain is surreptitiously harvested to make a cyborg cop with a computer-driven consciousness. The new president frequently depicts the “inner cities” as hellholes rife with murder, gangs, drugs, and (his favorite term) carnage. That said, if you do pick up what the film is putting down, you’ll see a remarkable degree of significance for the world of 2017. The core algorithms, so crucial to countless users’ businesses and lives, are opaque and will remain so until the sun dies. As the saying goes, if you aren’t paying for the product, you are the product, and Facebook and Google—as well as a bevy of other digital entities—make their billions by mining users’ personal information. He reads a thug his Miranda rights while punching him bloody. This becomes a running bit in the film, especially as the uncaring OCP chieftains start to favor their shiny RoboCop over the concerns of the actual folks on the beat. In 1987, Verhoeven and writers Edward Neumeier and Michael Miner were extrapolating Reagan-era greed and enthusiasm for privatization by imagining a corporate takeover of public services. Like OCP, Facebook and its ilk exempt themselves from the things they do to everyone else. Indeed, if we had collectively heeded its warnings, America might not be in the dire situation it finds itself in today. I will notify a rape crisis center.” She looks terrified. It’s time to listen to what the movie screams at us, to reengage with a movie that is simultaneously funnier, more thrilling, and more socially astute than most ever made. We eventually learn that the last directive prevents him from arresting or attacking any employees of OCP, thus exempting them from the very law enforcement they make it their business to enact. The irony is that he’s also in favor of unrestricted access to guns, which is another essential point of critique in RoboCop—everyone has firearms, and they accomplish nothing but mayhem and dismemberment. But the plot is only half the story of RoboCop. Each takes our secrets and our intricacies and auctions them off, but in a cruel irony, they themselves are black boxes. More important are the tone and stylistic flourishes, which are astoundingly good ventures in pitch-black comedy. Newscasters announce nuclear armageddon and accidental presidential assassinations with ignorant cheer; folks use comically oversize guns to shoot at their victims for 20-second stretches, unrealistic blood squibs firing left and right; everyone watches a TV show in which buxom ladies hit on a hideous old man who incongruously shouts, “I’d buy that for a dollar!” at random; an elementary school is named after Lee Iacocca; and so on. So, too, is the way Verhoeven and his collaborators confront actual police work. Sure, it makes the obvious critique that the profit motive drives people to carry out obscene miscarriages of justice like, well, using a near-dead body to secretly build a super-robot that can be shopped around to the highest bidder. Even then, though, there has to be a society-wide appreciation of unionization, as RoboCop points out—when the strike is put on the table, an OCP exec gets stoked about the idea of using it as an opportunity to put more robots on the street. If you haven’t seen RoboCop, you could be forgiven for assuming the movie is an earnest thriller, given its basic plot outline. In a nod to the robo-fiction of Isaac Asimov, RoboCop has to obey three hard-wired laws, along with a classified fourth. But there are even wiser points, as well. The show borrows much of its basic premise from the 1987 masterpiece: A corporation privatizes a police force and puts advanced machinery on the streets to combat soaring crime. In other words, RoboCop was talking about the tension between automation and working people well before it became a topic at the highest levels of political and economic debate. If they’re socially biting at all, their criticism is mild in comparison to their carnage. RoboCop is a metal personification of extrajudicial police violence, destroying bodies and lives with casual aplomb. In both tales, the impulse to fuck other people up and over leads only to empty souls and dead bodies. A RoboCop renaissance? This article originally appeared in Vulture. RoboCop teaches us that a private service, be it a police force or anything else, will inherently lack the transparency and accountability that (at least in theory) is built into an entity beholden to the public through elections, recalls, impeachment, and the like. Unfortunately, the mayhem and dismemberment is all that some people enjoy about the film, the ultimate insult to RoboCop’s teachings. In this, the movie is a spiritual sibling to Verhoeven’s other tragically misinterpreted masterwork, 1997’s antiwar satire Starship Troopers. Some people are banned without explanation; others are allowed to remain, despite ostensibly breaking the terms of service. Unfortunately, we can now add another faux-boCop clunker to the steel pile: Fox’s new police procedural APB, which wears its admiration for RoboCop on its high-tech sleeve. It’s not unreasonable to think the man in the Oval Office would love to see RoboCop put on the streets, fighting violence not with any kind of structural reasoning or community improvement, but rather the simple language of brutality. It’s hard to imagine these ideas coming up in a sci-fi film today, largely because union membership is so passé, free-falling at a rate that makes 1987 look positively communist. RoboCop’s pro-labor message was powerful then, but it’s vitally urgent now. He also has no idea how to interact with the community—after stopping an attempted rape, he holds the victim and, in his inhuman, metallic monotone, declares, “Madam, you have suffered an emotional shock. Not everyone has a tin exoskeleton, but everyone can create the collective armor of a picket line. Today’s techno-utopians may prefer Jobsian asceticism instead of the coke-addled sneers of Miguel Ferrer’s Bob Morton, but their ideology is closer to Bob’s than they may like to admit. OCP dreams of throwing off all government control in its Delta City community, and it’s hard to watch the movie now and not think of it as a kind of land-bound seastead. If you’re not laughing, you’re not paying attention. The vulgarity of television and interpersonal conduct leaves everyone debased and pitiful. I’d buy that for a dollar. Has there ever been a movie more misunderstood than RoboCop? Our present moment is one in which the ability to take what you want at all costs, without the slightest bit of empathy, is espoused at the highest levels of society—in other words, a moment that RoboCop prefigured three decades ago. It’s a victim of its own success, insofar as what makes it hilarious is how straight-faced everything is. See also: 26 Things You Probably Didn’t Know About the Original RoboCop We trust free-market libertarians at our own risk. The female lead (Natalie Martinez) is named “Murphy,” a near-certain homage to the real name of Verhoeven’s titular super-cop. It depicts a fallen world where tragedy long ago faded into farce and we’re supposed to ridicule virtually everything that goes on. That’s a goddamn shame, because RoboCop is more relevant today than it’s ever been. That plot point echoes current controversies over Facebook and Google. RoboCop makes a profoundly good case against privatizing the police force and, by extension, any public necessity. In a near-future version of Detroit, a sleazy firm with the delightfully over-the-top moniker Omni Consumer Products (or OCP, for short) buys up the police force—ostensibly to fight crime more efficiently, but really to test out brutally violent hardware to sell to the military. We’re supposed to laugh at and loathe the use of violence. There are no winks to inform you that it’s time to giggle, so if you’re only half-watching, you’ll miss all your cues. Paul Verhoeven’s hyperviolent dystopian cybersatire was released 30 years ago and almost immediately joined the likes of The Prince, Watchmen, and Wall Street in the great pantheon of works whose points have been completely missed by legions of fans and imitators. RoboCop was intended to be a viciously hilarious attack on police brutality, union busting, mass-media brainwashing, and the exploitation of the working class by amoral corporate raiders. Early on, we learn that the overstretched and underfunded cops, who receive not a whiff of the cash that OCP is stirring into its R&D division, are contemplating a strike. Alas, all too many people only noticed the viciousness, not the targets thereof. (To Verhoeven’s credit, the force has a substantial number of tough women, not just dudes.)
An officer who’s acquiesced to OCP control muses that “we’re not plumbers, we’re police officers—and police officers don’t strike.” The guy is, of course, totally missing the point: The fact that cops don’t usually strike makes a potential strike all the more potent. As a result, the film’s subsequent sequels, spinoffs, and 2014 remake have been generally straight-faced. What’s more, RoboCop teaches us that, when the forces of corporate overreach are at work, we have to retain power against them—power that comes not from robot suits, but from unions.

How Donald Ruined the Word “Trump”

Trump. Seems the bidding and gathering of tricks continually grinds to a halt whenever the new president’s name is uttered. Simpson. On the other hand, the Simpson paterfamilias is lovable and sympathetic despite himself, and usually winds up doing the right thing, if often by accident. I can sympathize. My mother lives in a south Florida retirement community, where the bridge season is in full swing. For example, I came across a stray reference in the local paper the other day noting participation in a school fundraiser had “trumped all other recent civic activities.” A nice moment for our community turned sour by an unfortunate grammatical choice. “Donald Trump” is the reality TV huckster and failed casino magnate. I own a mansion and a yacht,” which is doubtless how Trump introduces himself to people (certainly women), with the difference being he overestimates his net worth to ten digits instead of seven. Unfortunately, she reports that lately the games are taking an eternity to complete. This is a problem that is muddying social situations worldwide, but it’s particularly vexing in bridge quartets, as the word “trump” is so endemic to the game. And he’s as hilarious a character as has ever appeared on television. It may be not be at the top of his long and growing list of crimes against humanity, but ruining Looney Tunes and The Simpsons is in and of itself an impeachable offense. “Donald J. The associative conundrum even extends to the newly common usage of his middle initial when referring to him. Be it card play, an overriding factor, or even the old-timey use as a shorthand for trumpet, the word “trump” simply cannot escape its newly political overtones. The initial also serves to grant a modicum of authority. JFK and FDR were just Jack and Frank before being elected to the highest office in the land. This is ironic, for the use of “J.” as a middle initial has a long, quite specific history of use in ridiculous cartoon characters. Perhaps the most immediate figure to come to mind in this capacity is Elmer J. Since the election of the heir to the Drumpf family fortune, using “trump” in any of its forms, noun or verb, has made me wince. Even otherwise positive usages are tainted. Two, in particular, have now been soiled by proxy. Then there is the bloated, blustery, bumbling, buffoonish Trump, perfectly encapsulated by another cartoon antihero: Homer J. You know, Donald J. Fudd, millionaire. Donald John Trump doesn’t roll smoothly off the tongue—the repeat single syllable at the end doesn’t scan, as I suspect the entertainer-in-chief understands. Sad as it is, I can’t think of either Elmer J. these days without drifting over to Donald J. For example, here’s how the contract bridge auction process sounds in 2017. This usually results in delays from a couple of minutes of chuckling (Trump staffers are unable to turn on the White House lights) to nearly half an hour (immigration ban, Supreme Court nominee), depending on the seriousness of the offense. Trump” is the president. Homer is often depicted to be at war with his own brain (“Shut up, brain, or I’ll stab you with a Q-Tip!”), which couldn’t be a better metaphor for Trump’s early foray into governance. N: “One heart.”
E: “Two spades.”
S: “Pass.”
W: “Three No Trump.”
ALL: “I wish!!!”
According to mom, the real competition now comes from trying to get in the punchline first. My mother reports that at the mention of the “trump suit,” there is much muttering of epithets, with “deranged,” “madman,” and “asshole” being the most popular. In bridge parlance, the trump suit, should there be one, will rank above the others in any particular hand. Homer is crude, quick to anger, easily suggestible, a questionable speller, possesses an unusual skin tone, has a controversial set of fingers—stop me if any of this rings a bell. The middle name/initial is a key part of the presidential mystique, bestowing a certain dignity and separating the man in the oval office from the rest of us schlubs, who are content with mere Christian and surnames. or Homer J. Hence, “Donald J. (Trump is fortunate he didn’t build his career in the U.K., where “trump” is juvenile slang for passing gas.) Whatever else he accomplishes, for better or worse, Trump has had an impact the English language itself. He is also “Elmer J. Alas, none of these positive characteristics have yet to emerge from the Oval Office. Fudd, the endlessly unsuccessful hunter of wabbits and daffy ducks. My mom usually plays thrice a week, meaning there are always ample fresh outrages to catch up with. Unfortunately, it also means that my mother and her poor friends, who merely seek a few hours’ diversion, inevitably have their oasis sullied and their thoughts jolted back to the ever-worsening horrors of real life. Trump,” which ever-so-slightly softens the ballpeen bluntness of that last name.

Colbert Proves Stephen Miller Really Will Go On Any Show to Rave About Voter Fraud   

The joke comes from hearing the same sound bite over and over, past the point it has any meaning (not that it had much to begin with). It may just be his fondest dream. Campus conservative columnists like Miller are a very particular breed, who build an identity around gleefully provoking and annoying with what they consider inconvenient truths. (If you don’t know the type, this column by Miller serves as a great introduction.) In other words, this is not a guy who will be stung by the thought of popping up on HBO like a racist jack-in-the-box. Colbert simply takes Stephen’s boast that he is “prepared to go on any show, anywhere, any time” literally, inserting the man and his blathering into The Walking Dead, Game of Thrones, and more. Stephen Colbert had a little fun with dead-eyed Trump advisor Stephen Miller on Monday, releasing a video that responded to Miller’s weekend ravings about voter fraud. It’s unlikely to provoke the kind of response Saturday Night Live gets from Trump, however. There’s not really much more to the gag: it’s just Stephen Miller ruining your favorite shows with the kinds of voter fraud fear mongering that is usually safely locked away on Fox News.

What It’s Like for People Named Donald Who Aren’t Donald Trump

Normally, “Even a deadly hurricane can make the name of the hurricane spike up in popularity.” But Wattenberg thinks the presidency is unlikely to revive the flagging Donald. Citing the vogue for presidential last names becoming first names—Reagan, Kennedy, and the like—he said, “I’d be curious to see whether Trump as a first name ever made it onto the top-1,000 list.” Imagine that—a bunch of little Trumps running around your local playground. As Bell put it, “I feel like all the best-looking, most famous versions of Donald out in the world usually go by Don.”
According to Wattenberg, “The full name Donald and the nickname Don are far apart in the impression they give, kind of like Rodney to Rod, just a very different image.”
“I think he probably prefers the most impressive-sounding version of his name, which is Donald J. “I absolutely hate to be called ‘the Donald,’ ” he said. “I can’t think of a single case where anyone’s ever raised it,” he said. Now there’s a branding opportunity. Whether that’s because they too did not want to be associated with Trump, we’ll never know.)
“To modern ears, the full name Donald, all those consonants weigh it down,” Wattenberg said. Given the amount of attention one particular Donald has commanded, the past year or so has been a tough time for anyone else who shares a first name with the president. This is not to say it’s been a picnic for Muslims, Latinos, immigrants, women, veterans, journalists, the judicial branch, Jeb Bush, Hillary Clinton, or any Americans who care about civil liberties and spelling. It’s not gotten so bad yet. It’s like Voldemort.” That hasn’t stopped Burke from giving a little thought to the possibility that things get so bad that he has to abandon his given name: “In that case, I’ll just start going by my initials, or I don’t know, I’ll figure it out when that happens.”
Moynihan isn’t quite ready to give up. “You can call me literally anything else, but that’s just one thing I never liked, and now even more so, it’s kind of, ‘Please, just don’t put a the in front of my name because someone already ruined that for us.’ ” While he allowed that “it’s not like we’re all part of some secret society of Donalds or anything like that,” that doesn’t mean he can’t assume the the is annoying for all Donalds. But before I could request his long-form birth certificate, he handed off the phone to his press secretary, aka my mom. Other than Don Draper—“the Mad Men Don Draper years were the heyday of being a Donald,” Donald Bell lamented—most of the Donalds in popular culture are elderly, and any lingering Donalds—Glover, for example—tend to be named after older family members. The equivalent of Donald, Ronald, Gerald, Harold today would be Aiden, Hayden, Jayden, Kayden. “Most of the people at least in my particular circles don’t want to make any reference to him. At this point I tried to clarify the lifelong mystery of why his name is actually not Donald, just Don. “The style today is very much about vowels. His firm, MacroTrends, was by his estimation one of the earliest predictors of a Trump win. “Donald’s just not all that unusual. “I still have my own affection for my name. (I reached out to Donald Sutherland and Donald Glover for this piece, but they both declined to comment through representatives. “The one noteworthy feature of the president’s name is that both nickname and given name score extremely high on my dimension of success,” Albert Mehrabian, a professor emeritus of psychology who has studied names, told me in an email. But let’s think, just for a moment, of the Donalds. According to Social Security data, Donald peaked in popularity in America in 1934, the year Donald Duck was introduced, and it’s been downhill ever since. In the course of my hunt for Donalds, I happened to connect with Donald Luskin, a Chicago-based economic strategist who supported Trump in the election. “No matter what, it’s bad news,” he said. These days, he said, “I’m more sensitive about my name when I say it out loud to people. I think it’s less weird than if my name happened to be Barack.”
While Luskin is right that “Donald” is not exactly Pilot Inspektor, experts say the name has long been in serious decline. “It’s an incredibly obvious thing to say, but there are so many other things to say about this president that people tend to default to that first.” Burke agreed. It’s kind of like a depressing view of the world.”
Donald Burke, a 29-year-old in Washington, D.C. “It’s remarkable that no one in my social circle has ever explicitly made that association,” Moynihan said of sharing a first name with the president. “Thank God.”
Still, there is something about Donald. “Rational people know that everybody is their own individual.”
No one is moreso his own individual than Donald Trump. So does Luskin love all the attention he’s getting just because of his first name? We have a lot of long vowel sounds, not a lot of voiced consonants together like that -ld.”
According to both name experts and Donalds themselves, most Donalds don’t use the full name. There’s probably a group of people named Adolf somewhere who are in worse shape than I am.”
Speaking of things that have fallen off, do baby name experts expect any spike in the name Donald given his “unpresidented” victory? I’m just going to Starbucks for a cup of coffee, they ask me for my name, I have to say my name and then kind of apologize for it.”
In sum, “It’s a bit of an embarrassing time to be a Donald right now.”
Bell, an early adopter, happens to be the owner of the handle @Donald on our president’s favorite microblogging platform, and for the past few years his mentions have been full of words for that other Donald. “It’s always Donald Trump, first and last name, or it’s just Trump. Maybe Burke should get out of his bubble. You can tell that people will flinch almost, not even meaning to, but just hearing the name, it produces such an emotional reaction in people. They’re usually Dons, maybe Donnies—not Trump, however, a fact the Donalds I spoke to found notable. “Donald is likely to be a nonstarter on style grounds.”
“The traditional baby name dictionary lets you look up the linguistic origins in Old High German or tells you what proto-Celtic root was behind Donald, but that’s not what we hear when we hear names,” Wattenberg went on. who goes by “Don,” can relate. “Even Donald Trump was born on the down slope of Donald,” said Laura Wattenberg, the name expert behind “The meaning of the word Donald in certain name meaning books is ruler of the world,” Burke was quick to note, “which terrifies me!” A brand strategist by profession, Burke also sees the lack of nickname as a calculated move. ‘Trump did this, Trump did that.’ ” This may have at least helped minimize any negative impact on the name Donald, he surmised. Take it from Donald Bell, a 38-year-old in Alameda, California, one of several Donalds I recently spoke with after requesting that my friends and colleagues connect me with anyone they know named Donald and then also searching Twitter. Still, he’s worked it into a few jokes, sure. “It’s either I’m looking at people who are supporting Donald Trump or are violently against Donald Trump. Trump, as opposed to Don John Drumpf, which sounds I think a little less imperious,” mused another Donald—Donald Moynihan, a professor at the University of Wisconsin–Madison.  Would he ever considering selling his coveted @Donald handle to Trump? “We’re all constructing the meaning of names every day as we live, and there’s no question the meaning of Donald has changed dramatically over the last year.”
Mike Campbell, who runs, agrees that the name Donald is unlikely to see much of a resurgence, but he did mention another possibility. Wattenberg thinks it’s unlikely. And the sui generis nature of our president may have actually kept Donald-smearing to a minimum. I don’t deceive people,” he said, summarizing some key differences between himself and his name twin. “I don’t think it sullies his name,” my mom offered. He wasn’t wild about the comparison. “I think I can say this for the collective of Don or Donalds across the world, which is: We hope our name does not go down in infamy.”
For his part, Bell also hasn’t let the Donald problem ruin his good name. According to his research and surveys, Don scored an 88 and Donald a 95 out of 100 in terms of “impressions generated by the name in the general population.”
I was interested to hear the opinions of one more Don, the one who happens to be my dad, on the matter, so I called him up. “It’s a firm ‘never,’ ” Bell told me. “Part of my work is to talk about political developments, so I’ll say something like, ‘I just want to make it perfectly clear that I am only a Donald, I’m not the Donald.’ ” And that’s really it. “I’m not a crook.

Upcoming Thriller A Cure For Wellness Was Using Fake News in Its Ad Campaign

Spreading lies to sell a movie is shockingly irresponsible, but it’s also just bizarre. But the marketers for A Cure For Wellness went further, creating sites for modern day newspapers that don’t exist: the Sacramento Dispatch, the Salt Lake City Guardian, the Houston Leader, and so on. “Utah Senator Introduces Bill to Jail, Publicly Shame Women Who Receive Abortions,” says another. Another story, about President Trump denying California federal aid for the Oroville disaster, attracted an audience of liberals ready to believe anything bad about Trump. The news sites have been taken down since Buzzfeed’s story ran, but we’ll all be hearing about the “facts” from these stories for years to come. These sorts of sites, done well, can be part of a film’s mythos (The Blair Witch Project) or even fascinating in their own right (The Beast). Thanks for ruining Thanksgiving, Hollywood. Reporters Craig Silverman and Jane Lytvynenko uncovered a network of five fake news sites that were being used to promote the movie, leading the filmmakers to take the sites down. They’re the kind of pieces that play to people’s worst beliefs about their political opponents despite being completely made up—in other words, real fake news. A lot more probably didn’t get past the headline and were left with a piece of misinformation that confirmed their existing biases—and brought them no closer to buying a movie ticket. There’s even less reason to think that people looking for something new to hang their anger at liberals or at Trump on are going to be particularly receptive to a pitch for an unrelated horror film, if any of them even penetrate the campaign’s mysteries and realize that’s what the fake news site is about. Reportedly, they went to the pros—in a statement provided to Buzzfeed, Regency Enterprises, one of the film’s producers, said they had “partnered with a fake news creator to publish fake news.”
And the fake news worked: Buzzfeed reports that the Lady Gaga article went viral on Facebook and slightly-less-fake conservative blogs. Part of the campaign for A Cure for Wellness relies on the sorts of fake sites that have been commonplace for decades: websites for made up companies and organizations that tie back to the film. For example, looks at first glance like—the same color scheme, similar fonts—but it’s plastered all over with branding for A Cure For Wellness, including a link to the trailer, front and center.  It’s hard to imagine who’d be fooled, even before getting to the creepy disclaimer: is not an insurance marketplace and is not affiliated with any exchange, and is not a licensed insurance agent or broker. How did filmmakers craft such exquisitely shareable headlines? There is a sickness inside of us, rising like the bile that leaves that bitter taste at the back of our throats. A Cure for Wellness, Gore Verbinski’s upcoming thriller about a horrifying Swiss health spa, was using an even more horrifying method to advertise, Buzzfeed reports: fake news. “LEAKED: Lady Gaga Halftime Performance to Feature Muslim Tribute,” says one. A Cure for Wellness isn’t about Trump or Lady Gaga or fake news; there’s no reason to draw that connection. Maybe some people who saw those headlines clicked through, realized it was an ad, and learned about A Cure For Wellness. (Since the publication of Buzzfeed’s story, the fake news sites seem to have all been changed to redirect to the film’s main website). Some of the stories on the sites were also relatively unobjectionable: a headline reading “PSYCHOLOGICAL THRILLER SCREENING LEAVES SALT LAKE CITY MAN IN CATATONIC STATE” has a William Castle sort of charm to it. But the people running the ad campaign for A Cure for Wellness definitely crossed a line with the other fake stories they promoted from these sites.