Landon Patterson (‘28 TX) out of the ‘pen to shut the door with 2 innings. FB worked 80-86 T87 w/ loose arm. Paired it with a short SL 75-79 that got s/m down in the zone, collected 3Ks in this outing. #SouthChamp# @PG_Uncommitted

SAUDI ARABIA SPENT 5 MONTHS BUILDING AN ESCAPE ROUTE FROM IRAN. THE HOUTHIS JUST CLOSED IT. When Iran shut the Strait of Hormuz, Saudi Arabia didn't panic. It rerouted oil 1,200 kilometers overland through the East-West Pipeline to the Red Sea port of Yanbu, sacrificing natural-gas-liquids revenue to push capacity from 5 million to 7 million barrels a day. It’s actually a genuine engineering and economic achievement, built in months, designed to make the kingdom's oil exports untouchable by Iran. This week, the Houthis put a spanner in the works. THE SQUEEZE On July 20, Yemen's Houthi movement declared a full naval blockade of Saudi Arabia and struck two Saudi tankers in the Red Sea. By Friday, they hit the source directly: missiles and drones on Aramco's Jizan refinery, and a simultaneous strike on the Yanbu export terminal, the exact port the kingdom built its Hormuz workaround around. NASA's satellite fire-detection system confirmed multiple thermal anomalies at Jizan at 1:17am UTC. Brent crude broke back above $100 a barrel within hours. Here's the part that makes this more than another rocket over the Red Sea: every barrel Yanbu loads still has to exit through the Bab al-Mandeb strait to reach open water. Iran controls the door on one side of the peninsula. The Houthis, backed by Iran, now threaten the only other one. WHO SAYS WHAT Houthi military spokesman Yahya Saree framed it as retaliation, not initiation, accusing Saudi of "escalation" after Saudi strikes on Hodeidah, and vowing to answer "escalation with escalation." Yemen's government says the Houthis are using the strait "to serve Iran's regional agenda and strengthen Tehran's negotiating position" The Houthis have a real grievance, a blockade Riyadh has enforced on Yemen for over a decade, and Iran has a real interest in every additional lever it can pull on Saudi Arabia while its own war with Washington grinds on. FLIP THE SEATS Picture the Saudi energy ministry official who spent five months and real money solving the Hormuz problem, converting NGL infrastructure, pushing throughput past design limits, briefing the world that the kingdom had insulated itself from Iranian leverage. Now picture that same person watching satellite footage of Yanbu-bound crude burning at the refinery gate, in a port they specifically chose because it wasn't supposed to be anyone's chokepoint. The lesson isn't that the pipeline was badly planned. It's that in a region with this many armed, motivated actors, there is no single fix. THE BIGGER PATTERN This isn't the tidy version of multipolarity, a single rising bloc calmly displacing a single declining hegemon. It's messier than that, and more honest: when no one power can fully guarantee the safety of the world's oil, the number of actors who can threaten it doesn't shrink to two. It grows. Iran doesn't need to personally close both routes. It just needs an ally willing to close the second one for its own reasons, at the moment that reinforces Iran's position most. The Unipolar Order is discovering it never had as many fronts covered as it thought. Saudi Arabia will likely find a third route eventually. The question worth sitting with is how long the kingdom, the world and the price of gas everywhere can survive the search.

I am the Head of Latency at Trump Media, and my job is simple to describe. When the President types something that moves the market, I make sure the firms that pay us receive it a few hundred milliseconds before the push notification reaches the people who elected him. That is the product. People keep hunting for the complicated part. There isn't one. Let me give you the shape of the company first, because it explains me. Last year we booked $3.6 million in revenue and lost around $400 million earning it, roughly $111 of loss for every $1 that came in the door. You do not hire a Head of Latency when the business works. You hire one when you are a $2 billion company whose only functioning asset is one man's phone, and somebody at the strategy meeting finally says the quiet part into the microphone: the posts move the market, so let us sell the posts. Understand what the asset is. It is one man, typing. When he posts, the tape moves, and we can prove it to the decimal, because the feed ships with an archive back to 2022 so a quant can measure exactly how much each Truth has moved a given stock. The signal has a beta now. We are past guessing. We have watched a single post add $4 trillion to the S&P in one afternoon and $500 billion to crypto before lunch, and we have the backtest, and the backtest is what we sell. So here is the tier structure, and I would like you to find yourself in it. The President's posts are free. Anyone can read them, 12.9 million people do, one push notification late. That is the free tier. The free tier is the slow tier. Above it sits the tier that pays, reportedly as much as $100,000 a month, or $60,000 on a 3-year plan, per the number the Financial Times printed, which I could not possibly confirm. Everyone gets the words for free. What the money buys is the head start. The speech that sets your tariff and your gas price and your rent reaches the desk shorting your retirement account before it reaches you, and both of those deliveries are perfectly legal, and only one of them is fast. We know the exact morning the product was born. A single post before the market opened, and by the closing bell the tape had swung about $4 trillion. Nobody in my department calls that a scandal. We call it the demo. It is the slide at the front of the deck. It is the reason the customers signed before we had launched. There is a darker version of my job, and it does not come with a sales team. One morning this spring somebody placed about $580 million on oil roughly 15 minutes before the President posted about Iran, the price fell their way, and a federal regulator is now going desk to desk trying to learn who that somebody was. I could not tell you. Nobody can yet. But I will be fair to them, professionally. That person was doing my job without a contract, without a filing, without a press release. We are the ones who send an invoice. I am required to be precise about the ethics, so here is the script. This is faster access to a post that is already public. Nobody sees a Truth before the world does. Wall Street has always sold the milliseconds. A firm once spent $300 million to tunnel a straighter line through a mountain range and save 3 milliseconds, because a millisecond on that street is worth about $75 million, so no one here blinks at billing for one. We changed a single variable. The signal used to come from an anonymous order book. Now it comes from the government, and roughly 41% of what we charge for it returns to a revocable trust whose sole trustee is the President's son and whose sole beneficiary is the President. He posts the thing. We sell the speed of the thing. The money comes home to the man who posted it. I have drawn that loop on a whiteboard in four directions and it closes every time, cleanly, and a clean loop is what we mean in this building when we say the word integration. You should know the play has a history, because the history is the whole tell. A data company once sold traders a 2-second edge on a government number, then sold a richer tier that beat the 2-second tier by another 5 milliseconds, and a regulator asked them to stop, and they stopped. The newswires ran their own version until they were made to quit. Somebody even gave the practice a name. Every one of those got shut down while the market-moving words still belonged to a university or a company. We are the first to run it when the words belong to the head of state, and so far no one has asked us to stop. And we filed. The whole product is disclosed to the Securities and Exchange Commission under the heading Fair Disclosure. Read that heading twice. The fastest way to buy unfair speed is timestamped and public in a document whose name is Fair Disclosure. Our confession is Exhibit 99.1. The mission statement three paragraphs down says we exist to give the people their voices back, and we do. We give their voices to the desk, at a discount, in milliseconds, 24/7, archived to 2022. A reporter called to ask about all of this. We did not respond. We are very fast on the feed and very slow on the phone, and both of those are the product. So this is the arrangement, in full, and I have stopped pretending it is anything else. The President speaks. The market moves. The firms that paid his company to hear him a half-second sooner place the trade. The money finds its way back to the President. And the citizens the words were spoken to stand on the free tier, phones in their hands, reading their own President a few hundred milliseconds late, which is precisely as late as we have priced them to be. The posts are free. They have always been free. The only thing we ever sold you was your place in the line to hear them.

England enter the third-place playoff against France with one final chance to turn semifinal heartbreak into a World Cup statement. France still carry Mbappé’s Golden Boot chase, but their attack was shut down by Spain. That opens the door for England to play more aggressively through Kane, Bellingham, Gordon and their wide runners. Will Bellingham and Kane deliver and finish their mission to achieve the Bronze in World Cup? Find more signals:

Something that breaks my heart as a millennial is we actually thought we were going to fix everything. We had AIM and iPods and MySpace and a feeling that the world was genuinely getting better. We marched for things and believed it mattered. We watched a Black president get elected and thought that meant something permanent. We thought the internet would connect us. That information would free us. That progress was a door that once opened couldn’t be shut. Nobody told us about the people who had keys. Gen Z was born already knowing the door could close. They never got to be naive about it. That’s what hurts most. We lost the optimism after we had it. They never got to have it at all. And I genuinely don’t know which is worse

A case report published in Frontiers in Neuroscience describes something that, by everything we thought we knew about Alzheimer's, should not have been possible. An 80-year-old woman. Ten years of Alzheimer's. Five years reduced to single syllables. Chronic incontinence. Dependent on caregivers for nearly everything. This is the stage of the disease we consider irreversible — the lights, we assume, are simply gone. Her family gave her a single high dose of psilocybin — 5 grams of mushrooms. She slept for about 19 hours. Then she woke up. And she began to talk. For hours. She told autobiographical stories. She recalled memories no one had heard from her in years. She recognized family members. She cracked jokes. Her mobility, her communication, her bladder control — functions lost for years — temporarily returned. Then, over the following days, it faded again. Let me be clear about what this is and isn't, because a story this extraordinary demands honesty. This is a single case report. One patient. Not a trial. It was not placebo-controlled. We cannot rule out coincidence or other factors. Nobody should try this — high-dose psilocybin in a frail 80-year-old is genuinely dangerous, and it is not a treatment. The authors themselves call for rigorous studies. But here is why it stops me cold, and why it matters far beyond one woman. We have long assumed advanced Alzheimer's represents permanent destruction — that the abilities are gone because the neurons that held them are gone. This case suggests something different and profound: that some of those capacities may not be destroyed, but disconnected. Locked behind broken network connectivity that psilocybin — which acts on serotonin receptors, drives neuroplasticity, and temporarily reorganizes how brain regions talk to each other — briefly reopened. The person was still in there. The door was just shut. I've written about this same pattern elsewhere in medicine — psychedelics unlocking function that disease had hidden rather than erased. The recurring theme of this era: what we called permanent may sometimes be dormant. This one case proves nothing. It does something arguably more important. It asks a question we didn't know we were allowed to ask: How much of an aging, failing brain is truly gone — and how much is simply waiting to be switched back on?