Summary of “The Story Universe of Magic: The Gathering Is Expanding”

Underpinning all that were the five colors-white, black, red, green, and blue-that represent the different kinds of magic spells in the game.
Inside the game’s story universe-the stories told on the website and over the course of the releases of new sets of cards-multiple strands of narrative came to an intertwined climax earlier this year.
Now more is coming: A novel that advanced the story further debuted at number five on the New York Times bestseller list.
As the story grows, it feeds back into the game.
You see how this works, right? The game can generate and absorb story.
“A game mechanism is a kind of cosmology, whether you want to recognize it,” Kelman says.
“We want to create a cosmology that honors the game mechanisms without literalizing them.”
Conversely, the new animated series has to generate a story-something that drives multiple hours of narrative-from the game mechanic.

The orginal article.

Summary of “The strange story of Britain’s oldest sweet”

“This building started life as an apothecary in the early 1600s and that’s where the story of Yorkshire liquorice – and the Pontefract Cake – really begins.”
“You’re standing on what was once a massive liquorice field,” said Dave Evans, curator of Wakefield Museums and Castles, as he showed me around the castle remains.
“You need deep trenches to grow liquorice properly – up to 6ft in depth – which is why the castle hillock and its elevated grounds were the perfect environment. Beneath you is what was once a gigantic liquorice store.” While England was hardly short of imposing castles, one overriding factor prevailed: Yorkshire’s climate and geography suited the liquorice’s temperament far better than it did the warmongers’.
George Dunhill was an apothecary chemist in the family trade in Pontefract, and by adding sugar to liquorice he created a chewable non-medicinal lozenge, inventing the sweet as we know it today.
Local brands such as Sheffield’s George Bassett and Co, which invented UK children’s favourite Liquorice Allsorts, was absorbed into Cadbury, while Dunhills, the original maker of Pontefract Cakes, was acquired by German confectionary giant Haribo in 1994.
“The heritage is tangible, and while most of our liquorice factories have now closed, you can build a whole day out of liquorice tourism in the area.” Today, that could take sweet lovers to the Pontefract Liquorice Festival in July, or to the art nouveau Pontefract Museum, which houses a special liquorice exhibit.
Just outside Pontefract, at Farmer Copleys shop and dairy farm, Heather Copley and her husband Robert have recently become the only present-day farmers to grow liquorice root successfully in the UK. Complicating factors to achieve a fruitful crop include the right soil and climatic conditions, and since liquorice farming fell out of fashion, few farmers take up the challenge.
“The whole of Pontefract once smelled of liquorice – subtle, yet strong – and it would be a terrible shame to lose our heritage. It flowered for the first time last year, and it’ll take us five to seven years to get something from the crop. But there’s a sense of it belonging here, and continuing this story can give people a real sense of local identity. It’s a social responsibility.”

The orginal article.

Summary of “The Badass Lady Pilot Who Revolutionized the Art of Food Writing”

Growing up on a farm in Stockdale, Kansas, taught Paddleford to appreciate the difficulties of ushering food from field to plate-if you craved pork, you needed to kill one of the pigs out back-and her mother instilled a strong work ethic, cautioning, “Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be.”
As Kelly Alexander and Cynthia Harris recount in their comprehensive 2009 biography, Hometown Appetites: The Story of Clementine Paddleford, the Forgotten Food Writer Who Chronicled How America Ate, Paddleford was ambitious and nosy, spending her high school years writing for the local newspaper.
Paddleford packed her bags with notepads and pencils and left Manhattan, Kansas, for Manhattan, New York.
Paddleford promptly landed two jobs-with the Agricultural News Service and the Milk Market News-making a name for herself covering everything from price-fixing scandals to shipments coming in all the way from China.
It wasn’t her creative dream, but Paddleford saw it as a strategic move-the opportunity to write about food full time.
Paddleford was the first American writer to approach food with as much respect and research as other journalists did with the established serious topics.
By the late 1940s, she was filing stories from sugar shacks in Vermont, salmon canneries in Alaska, and trailer homes in Florida, traveling more than 50,000 miles a year as a “Roving food editor.” It was more than a full-time job: Paddleford worked 12-hour days, starting a column each day at 5 a.m. Surrounded by a personal library of 1,900 cookbooks, she guzzled coffee and, to save time, typed in a personalized shorthand.
Still, Paddleford’s work survives in the many magazines, books, and television shows now devoted to food, as well as in the realization that taste, culture, and the diversity of America are all vividly reflected in what we eat.

The orginal article.

Summary of “Are you really the ‘real’ you?”

The show Alex appeared on, Faking It, had a simple set-up: each week a participant with an archetypical identity would be tasked with learning a skill that jarred with that identity.
Something about Faking It changed Alex’s mind about what his “True” self was really like.
Alex, from where he sits now, is especially well-positioned to see how internal narrators can tamper with the evidence.
It’s a moment of genuine tenderness in a show about faking, but what nobody remarked on was that Alex’s East End accent hadn’t slipped the whole time.
Almost as soon as Alex got home, he realised his old life wasn’t going to stick.
In the end, I think Alex’s experience shows us just how strange it is to think of changing our minds about ourselves as a rational process.
The traits and preferences and perspectives Alex now takes to define himself didn’t exist to be discovered when he was wondering who he really was; they were made in and by the decision to walk away.
Berenice, the girl who monstered Alex in his first kickboxing lesson, married Tony, Alex’s mentor.

The orginal article.

Summary of “When Narrative Matters More Than Fact”

Through a series of Xs, Os, and arrows detailing their paths, Coach Mac told stories of Roman invasions, the Crusades, Genghis Khan, and the rise of Stalin.
The truth is, history stole my heart not because of the facts, but because of the stories.
Stories, at their heart, are either about heroes on a journey or strangers coming into a new setting.
Although classrooms like mine should place a strong focus on helping students navigate the evolving world of the internet and social media, to be critical consumers of media, and to develop a general desire to seek facts above fiction, to concentrate solely on fact checking is a naive approach to the problem.
My facts were wrong, but my story was what mattered to me.
The narrative I had crafted as a teenager suddenly seemed ridiculous, and not because someone presented me with facts, but because I understood much more of the story.
Young people use social media to tell stories and share their perception of truth, and it is also on these platforms that they seek truth.
As critics of stories, students might have noticed, as I did, that Donald Trump planted seeds of a treacherous media and rigged elections early on as minor obstacles in his story, so that as his story progressed those conflicts and the people who enacted them became more and more like the villains, while he became more and more the hero.

The orginal article.

Summary of “When Narrative Matters More Than Fact”

Through a series of Xs, Os, and arrows detailing their paths, Coach Mac told stories of Roman invasions, the Crusades, Genghis Khan, and the rise of Stalin.
The truth is, history stole my heart not because of the facts, but because of the stories.
Stories, at their heart, are either about heroes on a journey or strangers coming into a new setting.
Although classrooms like mine should place a strong focus on helping students navigate the evolving world of the internet and social media, to be critical consumers of media, and to develop a general desire to seek facts above fiction, to concentrate solely on fact checking is a naive approach to the problem.
My facts were wrong, but my story was what mattered to me.
The narrative I had crafted as a teenager suddenly seemed ridiculous, and not because someone presented me with facts, but because I understood much more of the story.
Young people use social media to tell stories and share their perception of truth, and it is also on these platforms that they seek truth.
As critics of stories, students might have noticed, as I did, that Donald Trump planted seeds of a treacherous media and rigged elections early on as minor obstacles in his story, so that as his story progressed those conflicts and the people who enacted them became more and more like the villains, while he became more and more the hero.

The orginal article.

Summary of “What’s the Real Origin of “OK”?”

There may be more stories about the origin of “OK” than there are uses for it: it comes from the Haitian port “Aux Cayes,” from Louisiana French au quai, from a Puerto Rican rum labeled “Aux Quais,” from German alles korrekt or Ober-Kommando, from Chocktaw okeh, from Scots och aye, from Wolof waw kay, from Greek olla kalla, from Latin omnes korrecta.
The truth about OK, as Allan Metcalf, the author of OK: The Improbable Story of America’s Greatest Word, puts it, is that it was “Born as a lame joke perpetrated by a newspaper editor in 1839.” This is not just Metcalf’s opinion or a half remembered story he once heard, as most OK stories are.
His book is based in the thorough scholarship of Allen Walker Read, a Columbia professor who for years scoured historical sources for evidence about OK, and published his findings in a series of journal articles in 1963 to 1964.It Started With a Joke OK, here’s the story.
During the 1840 election the “Oll korrect” OK merged with Martin van Buren’s nickname, Old Kinderhook, when some van Buren supporters formed the O.K. Club.
After the club got into a few tussles with Harrison supporters, OK got mixed up with slandering and sloganeering.
One paper published a half-serious claim that OK originated with Jackson using it as a mark for “All correct” on papers he had inspected.
OK was the “Misunderestimated,” “Refudiated,” and “Binders full of women” of its day, and it may have ended up with the same transitory fate if not for the fact that at the very same time, the telegraph was coming into use, and OK was there, a handy abbreviation, ready to be of service.
As Metcalf says, its ultimate success may have depended on “The almost universal amnesia about the true origins of OK that took place early in the twentieth century. With the source of OK forgotten, each ethnic group and tribe could claim the honor of having ushered it into being from an expression in their native language.” By forgetting where OK came from, we made it belong to us all.

The orginal article.

Summary of “4 Ways to Control Your Emotions in Tense Moments”

They were avoidable mistakes in moments when I was unwilling or unable to manage potent negative emotions.
The ability to recognize, own, and shape your own emotions is the master skill for deepening intimacy with loved ones, magnifying influence in the workplace, and amplifying our ability to turn ideas into results.
Four practices have made an immense difference for me at important moments in my career, like this one when I faced “Dale.”.
Emotions are the result of both what happens, and of the story you tell yourself about what happened.
One of the powerful practices that helps me detach from and take control of my emotions is to name the stories I tell.
Is it a victim story – one that emphasizes my virtues and absolves me of responsibility for what is happening? Is it a villain story – one that exaggerates the faults of others and attributes what’s happening to their evil motives? Is it a helpless story – one that convinces me that any healthy course of action is pointless? Naming my stories helps me see them for what they are – only one of myriad ways I can make sense of what’s happening.
Once you identify the story, you can take control by asking yourself questions that provoke you out of your victim, villain, and helpless stories.
I’ve found greater peace over the years as I’ve become aware of the primal origin of the stories I tell – and learned to challenge the perception that my safety and worth are at risk in these moments.

The orginal article.

Summary of “The croissant, breakfast of rebels”

Everyone knows the croissant story, don’t they? Viennese bakers, under siege by the Ottomans in 1683, are slaving over their ovens in the small hours when they hear scrapings and rumblings underground.
Really and truly, crescent pastries are ancient, and the ancestor of the croissant is probably a curvy Mitteleuropean yeast roll called a Kipferl.
The croissant itself became a part of French life no earlier than the 19th century, when August Zang, a Viennese baker and press baron, opened a pastry shop in Paris, introducing the country not only to the steam oven but also to the pastry that would one day be its most defining export.
As recently as 2017, a baker from Nice was reported as launching a “Crusade” to save the “Genuine” croissant from extinction, with the aggressor this time not the subterraneous Ottoman but the industrial processes that accounted for some three-quarters of France’s croissant consumption.
To be eligible for the yearly competition organised by the syndicat des boulangers du Grand-Paris to find the city’s best croissant, you need to prove to the hungry jury that your croissant is manually shaped and fatted with nothing but the finest appellation d’origine contrôlée butter from the Charentes-Poitou region.
This stern proscription on using anything but the finest butter has long been defied by the legions of French bakers who have cranked out two versions daily: a croissant ordinaire, curved daintily in on itself like a crab and made with vegetable fat, and the croissant au beurre, plump and golden, obstinately uncurved and dripping with just the right kind of butter.
There seemed to be fewer ordinaires about last time I was in town, though its cunning rebranding as a croissant naturel in one bakery suggests that vegan celebrity for the margarine croissant may be lurking just around the corner, even in France.
There you have it: the croissant: perennial breakfast of controversialists.

The orginal article.

Summary of “The Unexpected Profundity of Curious George”

The Curious George books seemed out of fashion once my daughter was old enough for them, when a friend passed on a “Curious George and Friends” anthology with some ambivalence.
George is visibly distressed; the text describes him as sad. The Man in the Yellow Hat then brings George aboard a ship, informing him that he’ll be delivered to a zoo, and advising him to stay out of trouble.
On my first green reread of the George story to my daughter, the perils felt almost too intense for primary colors, primary readers.
There are seven original Curious George tales, and seven other well-known and anthologized Margret and Hans Rey stories.
“Curious George Takes a Job” is even more hectic: he escapes the zoo, rides atop a bus, has a spaghetti fiasco, becomes a happy four-handed dishwasher, works as a window-washer, impulsively paints a room in a high-rise building as a jungle scene, escapes down a fire escape, breaks his leg, passes out from ether, and then ends up-with more of that characteristic nineteen-forties glamour-starring in a movie.
In the nineteen-nineties, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt commissioned and distributed additional early-reader Curious George stories that were not written or illustrated by the Reys.
In a “Curious George” manuscript draft page that shows the scene where the firemen arrive, you can see a note pencilled in next to the typed text: “No fire! Only a naughty little monkey.” In all of the Reys’ Curious George stories, physical peril is a constant: George floods a house, gets carried off by a kite, breaks a leg, crashes on a bike.
The emotional standout was “Curious George Takes a Job,” which remains one of the very few books that my mom seems to truly respect.

The orginal article.