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Malina Lee, a 31‑year‑old wedding baker from San Antonio, joined TikTok in 2020 to pass the lockdown‑induced boredom and promote her business. Four years later, an anonymous commenter called “PickleFart” noticed an asymmetrical neck in one of her videos and suggested she check for a goiter.The tip proved accurate: doctors confirmed thyroid cancer. Lee received prompt treatment and, within a year, was declared cancer‑free. She told the outlet that her oncologist was amazed at how early the disease was caught, crediting the TikTok comment as the catalyst.Lee’s experience is part of a growing trend where TikTok’s hyper‑targeted algorithm surfaces health‑related content that resonates with users’ unnoticed symptoms. In several cases, community members have flagged potential conditions that clinicians initially missed.The “PickleFart” persona belongs to Billie Jean Tuomi, who calls herself the “thyroid avenger.” A thyroid‑cancer survivor herself (diagnosed in 2012), Tuomi now scans videos for neck asymmetry and gently advises creators to seek a thyroid panel—a blood test measuring hormone levels and antibodies. The American Thyroid Association recommends adults start routine thyroid testing at age 35, or annually for high‑risk individuals.Tuomi estimates she has flagged dozens of videos, with at least four confirmed serious thyroid issues, including Lee’s. She stresses she does not claim to diagnose, merely urges viewers to consult a physician. After a viral comment, she received a flood of private messages with neck photos, prompting her to change her username.Lee, inspired by Tuomi’s intervention, has begun commenting on other users’ videos, helping one individual discover an enlarged thyroid that required removal. She describes the process as a “domino effect” of community‑driven health awareness.Medical professionals acknowledge the double‑edged nature of this phenomenon. Craig Mittleman, director of emergency services at Lawrence + Memorial Hospital, notes a rise in patients arriving with self‑diagnoses sourced from social media. While this can empower patients to ask informed questions, it also burdens clinicians with debunking misinformation.Gender disparities amplify the issue: research shows women are more likely to seek health information online, often after feeling dismissed by traditional providers. TikTok user Tori Mosser, a 23‑year‑old filmmaker, credits a direct message suggesting chronic appendicitis for prompting surgery that resolved her chronic vomiting episodes.Both Lee and Mosser emphasize the therapeutic value of finding a supportive community on TikTok, especially for invisible or chronic illnesses that are frequently minimized in clinical settings.

After serving in Afghanistan, Army Ranger Jesse Gould developed PTSD and turned to drinking to cope. Seeking an alternative to lifelong medication, Gould discovered psilocybin in Peru, which significantly alleviated his symptoms.Gould founded the Heroic Hearts Project, a non-profit hosting ayahuasca and psilocybin retreats for veterans. The organization has helped over 1,500 veterans and their spouses without any psychotic episodes.State lawmakers are taking notice of psilocybin's potential health benefits, with Colorado, New Mexico, and Oregon legalizing it for therapeutic use. At least eight states are considering similar legislation, despite some arguing that the FDA should approve it first.Research suggests psilocybin can be safe and effective when administered with psychological support. A 2025 study found it was associated with symptomatic improvement in adults with PTSD. Clinical psychologist Joseph Zamaria notes that psilocybin can disrupt the brain's default mode network, allowing people to detach from harmful narratives.However, some experts, like Albert Garcia-Romeu, are skeptical about state-led legalization without FDA approval, citing potential unknown risks. Gould counters that the suicide rate among veterans is a pressing issue, with 35 deaths per 100,000 people in 2023, more than double the general population's rate.

The musical adaptation of Heathers, based on the 1989 black comedy film, has premiered in Melbourne. The show features a young cast, including Emma Caporaso as Veronica Sawyer, and Conor Beaumont as Jason 'JD' Dean. The musical tackles serious issues like suicide, bullying, and rape culture, but its approach has been updated for modern audiences.The show's aesthetic and tone are more akin to its millennial successors, with a high-octane blast of colour and a bombastic pop-rock score by Laurence O'Keefe and Kevin Murphy. The cast shines, particularly Emma Caporaso, who brings a warmer and more likable take on Veronica Sawyer.The musical covers serious issues, from suicide and bullying to eating disorders, rape culture and homophobia. However, some changes, such as the removal of the controversial song 'Blue', have been made to update the approach to these topics. The show's tonal chaos is the embodiment of the whiplash in one of Slater's chilling lines from the film: 'Our love is God. Let's go get a slushie.'Despite some missteps, including unsubtle moralising in newer songs, the show is good, hammy fun, and the cast and audience alike are clearly having a ball. The show will tour to various cities in Australia, including Melbourne, Adelaide, Gold Coast, Canberra, Sydney, and Perth.

Roberto De Zerbi, the new head coach of Tottenham, recently apologized for his past comments about Mason Greenwood, a forward he managed at Marseille. De Zerbi's apology was seen as insufficient by some, as it focused on his self-description rather than taking accountability for his words. Greenwood had denied charges of attempted rape, controlling and coercive behavior, and assault occasioning actual bodily harm in 2022, and the case was discontinued. The conversation around De Zerbi and Greenwood has brought the issue of male violence against women back to the center of football's public discourse. Research has shown that men who perpetrate serious harm rarely identify themselves as perpetrators, and instead displace blame onto the victim, alcohol, or circumstance. This is why character references, although sincerely offered, are often inadequate in addressing the issue. Male violence against women is not an isolated issue, but rather a product of societal norms that shape what is seen, named, and tolerated. The World Health Organization and decades of academic research on gender and masculinity have consistently identified these norms as the root cause of the problem. Football is not immune to this issue, and research has shown that strong group cultures in sport can inhibit men from speaking up against harmful behavior. Men in positions of power, such as De Zerbi, have a responsibility to use their platform to speak out against male violence and to educate others about the impact of their behavior. Genuine ownership and accountability require men to name what was wrong with their actions, accept the impact of their behavior, and commit to not repeating it. De Zerbi's response fell short of this standard, and instead offered a character reference for himself. Football has a unique influence on society, particularly among young men, and it is essential that players, managers, and clubs use this influence to shape positive attitudes and behaviors. The heat generated by this incident has put male violence against women on the front pages of sports coverage, and it is crucial that the game uses this momentum to have a serious conversation about what it teaches, tolerates, and expects of men at every level.

In the heart of Kyiv, Ukraine, a unique theatre has emerged as a beacon of hope and healing for those affected by war. The Veterans' Theatre, founded in 2024, provides a platform for soldiers, their wives, and widows to share their experiences and find catharsis through performance.One of the theatre's most poignant productions is 'Twenty One', a play that explores the struggles of a soldier's wife, Maryna, as she waits anxiously for her husband's return from the front line. The play, written by Olha Murashko, is an autobiographical account of the emotional toll of war on those left behind.The theatre's approach is rooted in the idea that sharing one's experiences can be a powerful tool for healing. By dramatizing their stories, participants are able to process their emotions and find a sense of closure. The theatre's director, Kateryna Vyshneva, believes that this collective catharsis is essential in helping individuals cope with the trauma of war.The Veterans' Theatre serves as a therapeutic outlet for its participants, providing a safe space for them to express their emotions and connect with others who have gone through similar experiences. As the theatre continues to grow and evolve, it is clear that its impact will be felt for generations to come.

Since its inauguration in 1875, Mumbai’s Sassoon Dock has transitioned from a Gulf‑bound trading hub to the beating heart of the city’s fishing sector. Today, the once‑bustling harbour is marked by an unsettling silence.Rows of fishing boats sit idle under the morning sun, their colourful flags fluttering against the skyline. The familiar chorus of net‑unloading, diesel‑engine rumble, ice‑hauling and fish‑monger shouts has faded.Boat owner Shekhar Chogle, weather‑worn from years at sea, has been compelled to keep his vessel moored since the conflict began. Plummeting earnings, relentless labour costs and diesel prices soaring above $1.20 per litre ($4.54 per US gallon) have rendered fishing operations virtually impossible.The dock’s diesel pump now sits abandoned, draped with a wilted marigold garland. A worker returns from the petrol station empty‑handed, his wooden barrow holding six unfilled containers, underscoring the fuel shortage that has crippled cooperatives that normally supply affordable fuel, ice and equipment to fishers.This fuel crisis reverberates beyond Mumbai, affecting fishing communities throughout India and wider Asia. Fishers confront a stark choice: stay ashore and forfeit income, or brave the sea at the risk of further financial loss, jeopardising both individual families and entire coastal economies.A recently announced two‑week ceasefire between Iran, the United States and Israel offers a glimmer of hope, yet analysts warn that normalising fuel supplies will take time.For Chogle, the clock is ticking. “Our income has dropped significantly since we have not been able to take our boat out to sea,” he lamented.Despite the soaring fuel costs, a few boats still venture out. Morning markets persist, though catches are modest. Women in vibrant saris haggle over the limited fish, and a mother balancing a baby on her hip scrutinises each purchase, weighing cost against necessity.“If diesel prices don’t come down soon, I don’t know how we’ll survive,” Chogle warned, encapsulating the precarious future of Mumbai’s once‑thriving fishing trade.

Stephen Fry opened his appearance on ITV’s The Assembly with a startling question: “You tried to kill yourself a couple of times. Are you happy to be alive now?” The boldness set the tone for a conversation that veered far from the usual celebrity‑friendly script.The programme distinguishes itself by placing a well‑known guest in front of a panel of young adults with neurodivergence or learning disabilities. Free from the conventional safeguards of mainstream talk shows, the panel asks questions that are simultaneously unconventional and deeply human, prompting guests to respond without the usual rehearsed veneer.For Fry, the format proved liberating. Known for translating complex ideas into accessible language, he used the platform to discuss suicidal ideation, likening the experience to the lingering memory of a broken limb—painful yet now distant. This candidness allowed him to reaffirm why he remains a cultural touchstone.One of the most memorable moments came when a participant asked, “I read that you are bipolar. One of my family has that. How can I help them?” Fry responded with a vivid analogy, describing bipolar disorder as a “rainstorm raging inside you—eventually the sun returns, and it’s the weather, not the person, that changes.” This explanation resonated as both compassionate and educational.The interview oscillated between gravitas and levity. Fry fielded whimsical queries such as “Can you help me meet Céline Dion?” and “How much have you spent on cocaine?” alongside the probing “Are you a top or a bottom?” The juxtaposition amplified the emotional weight of the serious topics.At one point, a young panelist named Luca chose not to ask a question, instead performing William Wordsworth’s poem “The World Is Too Much With Us” with theatrical flair—a rare blend of poetry and performance that underscored the show’s experimental spirit.Another highlight involved Jacob, a panel member who brandished a list of Fry’s past advertising gigs—Heineken, Twinings, Honda, and more—before delivering the punchline, “Is there anything you wouldn’t do for money?” The extended joke built a collective laugh that softened the subsequent, more probing inquiries.Critics have likened the show’s tone to a hybrid of Radio 4’s In the Psychiatrist’s Chair and the cheeky, irreverent style of classic British comedy interviews such as those with Dame Edna Everage or Mrs Merton, creating a unique space where vulnerability and humor coexist.The episode concluded with Nina Simone’s “I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free” playing as Fry reflected on his experiences with antisemitism and bipolar disorder. Moved by the music, he rose and danced, offering a visual testament to the therapeutic power of the format.The Assembly aired on ITV1 and is now available for streaming on ITVX.

Footage captured on the streets of Tehran shows small groups of citizens gathering around Enghelab Square – a historic rally point for pro‑regime supporters – some waving Iranian flags, others draped over their backs. The atmosphere is far from uniform; debates and arguments erupted shortly after the ceasefire announcement, reflecting a spectrum of emotions from shock to tentative hope.The video, posted by Majid Nouri – son of former prison official Hamid Nouri – includes his running commentary. He notes that the discussions began around 3 a.m. and continued into the morning, with participants expressing both anger and disbelief. "In no way do we trust America," Nouri declared, echoing a sentiment he says is shared by virtually every Iranian.Pro‑government demonstrators were heard chanting "Death to America, death to Israel, death to compromisers!" and burning U.S. and Israeli flags, according to the Associated Press. The chants persisted despite attempts by organizers to calm the crowd, underscoring the depth of anti‑Western feeling among hardliners.While the ceasefire halted active hostilities, the war has already claimed at least 1,900 lives in Iran. With internet services largely blacked out, gauging the broader public mood is challenging, but pockets of Tehran reported subdued celebrations in the early hours of Wednesday.Local resident Ali, a 31‑year‑old, summed up the prevailing uncertainty: "Most people here don’t trust the US and still don’t know exactly what is going to happen, so they are unsure whether they should be happy or worried." He warned that the ceasefire’s two‑week duration offers no guarantee of lasting peace.Business owners are beginning to test the waters. Hamid, a 43‑year‑old shopkeeper whose grocery and cleaning‑supplies store closed after the February bombings, said, "Today feels like there is no war," and he has reopened his shop, hoping to recover lost income for his family.Iranian officials are framing the pause as a diplomatic victory. Former foreign minister Ali Akbar Velayati posted on X that the conflict has reshaped the global power balance, positioning Iran within a new multipolar order. President Masoud Pezeshkian praised the ceasefire as the fruit of the blood of Iran’s “great martyred leader” and the collective will of the people.Strategically, the ceasefire highlights Tehran’s ability to disrupt the vital Strait of Hormuz, a chokepoint for global oil shipments. Analysts note that this leverage could bolster Iran’s negotiating stance, even as former U.S. President Donald Trump previously warned that a full‑scale clash would threaten "a whole civilisation." As sunrise illuminated the capital, daily life resumed with shops reopening and traffic returning to the streets, yet the prevailing mood remains a blend of exhaustion, cautious optimism, and lingering mistrust of the United States.

Tens of thousands of people have been hired by Scale AI – a firm 49% owned by Meta – to train artificial‑intelligence models by scraping Instagram accounts, harvesting copyrighted artwork and transcribing pornographic soundtracks, according to the Guardian.Scale AI promotes its Outlier platform as a flexible, expert‑driven marketplace, recruiting professionals from medicine, physics and economics to "become the expert that AI learns from."Workers, however, say the reality diverges sharply from high‑level model refinement. They describe tasks that involve massive personal‑data scraping and content that many find morally uncomfortable.Outlier is managed by Scale AI, which holds contracts with the U.S. Pentagon and other defense companies. Its chief executive, Alexandr Wang, is hailed by Forbes as the world’s youngest self‑made billionaire, while former managing director Michael Kratsios served as science adviser to former President Donald Trump.One contractor noted that users of Meta platforms would be shocked to learn their photos and friends’ images are being harvested for AI training, with workers manually reviewing profiles to extract data.The Guardian interviewed ten Outlier contributors – many also journalists, graduate students, teachers or librarians – who took the gig work out of economic desperation. One said, "A lot of us were really desperate" and felt compelled to accept the unstable, low‑pay assignments.These gig workers, dubbed “taskers,” often feel they are training their own replacements, expressing “internalised shame and guilt” over contributing to the automation of creative professions.Law firm Clarkson, representing AI gig workers, estimates that hundreds of thousands of people worldwide now labor on platforms like Outlier. Taskers report bait‑and‑switch recruitment tactics, where advertised high salaries are replaced by lower‑paid projects after onboarding.All contributors are monitored through a tool called Hubstaff, which can screenshot browsers to verify work. While Scale AI claims the software is only for accurate payment, workers describe it as constant surveillance.Assignments have ranged from transcribing pornographic audio and labeling photos of dead animals or dog faeces, to annotating diagrams of infant genitalia and violent police scenarios. One doctoral student recounted being promised “no nudity” only to receive explicit porn clips.Scale AI says it shuts down any task flagged as inappropriate and does not accept projects involving child sexual‑abuse material or pornography, though workers note that publicly available images of minors have been used for training.Social‑media scraping tasks required workers to tag individuals by name, location and age, sometimes pulling data from accounts of users under 18. One task asked contributors to order Facebook photos by the subject’s age, prompting ethical unease.In addition to personal data, taskers were asked to harvest copyrighted artwork, with strict instructions to avoid AI‑generated images and select only hand‑drawn pieces. Scale AI maintains it does not ask workers to violate copyright standards.Scale AI’s client list includes major tech firms such as Google, Meta and OpenAI, as well as the U.S. Department of Defense and the government of Qatar, highlighting the growing demand for labelled data as AI models scale.Some workers reported interacting with ChatGPT and Claude, and speculated they might be training Meta’s upcoming model, code‑named “Avocado.”OpenAI announced it ended its partnership with Scale AI in June 2025, citing its supplier code of conduct that mandates ethical treatment of all workers.Despite irregular pay, occasional mass layoffs and the unsettling nature of many tasks, many taskers remain on the Outlier platform, hoping the AI future will eventually improve conditions. One said, "I have to be positive about AI because the alternative is not great."In response, a Scale AI spokesperson stated, "Outlier provides flexible, project‑based work with transparent pay. Contributors choose when and how they participate, and we regularly hear from highly skilled contributors who value the flexibility and opportunity to apply their expertise on the platform."