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The Origins of 'Mogging' Until recently, if someone had said "mog" to me, I probably would have assumed they were talking about the children's book cat created by the late great Judith Kerr. If asked about "mogging" or being "mogged," I would have been completely baffled. But for many members of gen Z and gen Alpha (or anyone who is just a bit too online), the slang term, which means to outdo or outshine others, is everywhere. From Manosphere to Mainstream Mogging's origins are in the manosphere, where it began as a verb derived from the acronym "Amog" (alpha male of the group). In misogynistic forums in the 2010s, to "mog" came to mean to outdo someone in terms of sexual desirability. Mogging has been adopted by "looksmaxxing" influencers such as Braden Peters, known online as Clavicular, who encourage men to try to alter their looks – sometimes in extreme ways – to increase their "sexual market value". Such an influencer might talk of "frame mogging" another person in a photo or video – a variation on mogging that specifically refers to being more muscular. The Evolution of Competitive Language Even now, as the term has begun to be used much more widely, and in a tongue-in-cheek way, it is still typically associated with looks (a friend of mine, for example, was described by her boyfriend's younger siblings as "mogging him" in a photo). But increasingly, mogging can mean besting others at basically anything. The gold medal Olympic figure skater Alysa Liu said in an interview last year that her main competition strategy was "to mog", while a 23-year-old colleague of mine tells me that she and her friends joke about "walk-mogging" when they overtake people on the street. Linguistic Analysis of Modern Slang Tony Thorne, director of the slang and new language archive at King's College London, says a lot of new slang terms "have come recently from the same kind of male-based internet culture", referencing the words "simp" (someone who is excessively attentive), "soy boy" (a derogatory term for a man who is not stereotypically masculine) and "sigma" (someone cool and successful). Not to mention "maxxing," now such an established part of the lexicon that it was tweeted by the US Department of Defense earlier this year. The Cultural Impact of Competitive Slang Thorne thinks it is significant that "mogging" in particular has become fashionable at this time. "What it implies – hyper-competitive, hyper-individualist, aggressive selfishness" has become "mainstream behaviour", he says. Which is why Will Adolphy, a psychotherapist who was himself once an ardent follower of manosphere influencers, has concerns about the word. "Part of me can see how it's a kind of handy, even entertaining word," he says. But the idea of mogging "reinforces this sense that there are certain people that will dominate others based off their physical appearance and status", he says. Psychological Concerns About Competitive Language Dr Emily Sehmer, an NHS child and adolescent psychiatrist, worries too about the "constant sense of competition" that concepts such as mogging help to foster, especially for teenagers, who are developing their socio-emotional skills and typically "have a desire to fit in and to get peer approval". Apart from anything else, she adds, wanting to mog someone is "kind of mean, isn't it?" The Ironical Reappropriation of 'Mogging' "I think people are right to be concerned," about the rise in usage of slang that originates from a toxic subculture, Thorne says – and notes that some of his fellow linguists feel uncomfortable about researching it. But, he adds, "mogging" has moved well beyond its origins, and many people who use it now "tend to understand it and laugh at it, and they use it themselves, but ironically". Certainly, plenty of mogging content on social media now has an irreverence to it: such as the trend of posing for the photo on a rollercoaster in order to "mog" the screaming riders next to you. Making what started as an aggressive concept into something very silly pokes fun at the ridiculousness of the manosphere, my younger colleague explains. She shows me a picture of herself on a recent holiday, standing next to a statue of Napoleon, that she sent to a group chat of her friends. The caption? "I mogged Napoleon!"

The Pick of the Week: Judgemental New Strictly Come Dancing hosts Anton Du Beke and Craig Revel Horwood are trading verdicts on pop culture, sartorial dilemmas, and listeners' workplace dramas in their podcast Judgemental. With episodes released weekly from Tuesday, 9 June, this podcast ensures that half of the judging panel isn't overshadowed. Exploring Toxic Masculinity: Manosphere Messiahs BBC World Service's podcast Manosphere Messiahs investigates toxic masculinity globally, starting with influencers preaching misogyny in Mexico and Kenya. The podcast features insights from fans and women personally affected. Comedy and Conversation: Who's With Me? With W Kamau Bell US standup comedian W Kamau Bell turns his popular Substack into a video podcast, Who's With Me?, inviting guests like Delroy Lindo and Misty Copeland. The podcast explores various topics through opinion pieces and discussions. Interior Design Chat: Love What You've Done With the Place Interior design becomes a major theme in podcasting with Love What You've Done With the Place, hosted by Owain Wyn Evans. The series mines anecdotes from celebrity guests, focusing on niche topics. Crime Prevention: Fighting Crime Fighting Crime explores various ways to prevent crime, from prisons to universities. Journalist Cristina Quinn speaks to inmates, police chiefs, economists, and more to probe claims about crime prevention.

Lead: Euphoria’s third season as a mirror of a nihilistic generationThe latest season of Euphoria has turned into a relentless feed of meme‑ready moments, from OnlyFans storylines to snake attacks, that echo the outrage‑driven attention economy shaping today’s youth.Season three’s shock‑value tactics and controversial storylinesSet five years after high‑school, the series piles on sensational set‑pieces – pup play, sugar‑daddy deals, mummification fetishes, and a “Thotzilla” rampage – while foregrounding female characters who monetize their bodies for male pleasure. The narrative repeatedly pits empowerment against exploitation, most starkly in Cassie’s descent into viral OnlyFans content and the brutal assault of strip‑club dancer Kitty.Absence of hard metrics but cultural buzz indicatorsNo official viewership figures are cited in the article.The show’s moments have dominated social‑media feeds, spawning memes, discussion threads and “rage‑bait” headlines.Related coverage links to broader cultural debates about the manosphere, Andrew Tate and the Bonnie Blue documentary.Why the show resonates with the attention‑economy generationAccording to the review, the series captures how algorithms strip humanity by rewarding polarising content. Characters chase virality the way real‑world influencers chase followers, reflecting a cohort that grew up on figures like Andrew Tate and the Bonnie Blue documentary – both products of the same attention‑driven ecosystem.What this signals for future teen dramas and media criticismIf Euphoria continues to blend shock tactics with cultural critique, it may set a precedent for teen dramas to confront, rather than merely depict, the toxic mechanics of modern fame. The show’s willingness to expose the commodification of young women could spark deeper industry conversations about responsibility versus sensationalism.

Drake has turned his album launch into a winter spectacle in Toronto, yet the hype is being eclipsed by a bitter rivalry with Kendrick Lamar and growing criticism that he’s pandering to the manosphere. The article dissects the marketing push, the numbers that still keep him on top of streaming charts, and the cultural fallout that could reshape his career. The Iceman Campaign: Ice‑Cold Stunts in Toronto Courtside seats at the Raptors arena were iced over with faux icicles. A massive block of ice was placed downtown for fans to chip away, revealing the album release date. A YouTube series set in an ice‑manufacturing plant debuted, featuring Drake driving an Iceman‑branded truck. Numbers Behind the Hype: Release Date and Streaming Dominance The album drops on 15 May 2026. Despite the controversy, Drake remains the highest‑streamed rapper worldwide, a metric that continues to attract major label support and lucrative brand deals. Cultural Fallout: The Kendrick Lamar Beef and Manosphere Accusations The feud began two years ago when Lamar’s diss track Not Like Us labeled Drake a “hip‑hop colonizer.” Since then, Drake’s lyrics have been called out for misogyny—most notably the 2022 track “Circo Loco”—and his off‑stage actions (e.g., gifting $50,000 to a dumped fan) have drawn comparisons to incel culture. Female fans cite these moments as the “final straw,” prompting a shift toward the manosphere in his public persona. What This Means for Drake’s Brand and the Hip‑Hop Landscape The combination of aggressive marketing, streaming clout, and a tarnished reputation creates a paradox: Drake can still generate chart‑topping hits, yet his credibility among core hip‑hop audiences is eroding. The backlash illustrates a broader industry tension between commercial success and cultural authenticity. Future Outlook: Can Drake Re‑Earn His Audience? Analysts suggest that a candid, self‑reflective project—akin to Taylor Swift’s Reputation—could help Drake mend fences. Without a clear apology or a decisive artistic pivot, his attempt to reclaim lost fans may fall short, leaving his legacy in a precarious balance.

The Theatricality of the Oval OfficeComedian Munya Chawawa’s new documentary, Wrestling With Trump, offers a startling new psychological framework for understanding the former president’s meteoric rise. Rather than viewing Trump’s behavior through traditional political lenses, Chawawa posits that his political style has been cribbed entirely from the world of WWE SmackDown. This theory, which Chawawa dubs the 'theory of knocking everyone unconscious,' suggests that the American political stage has been transformed into a wrestling ring where the suspension of disbelief is the ultimate weapon.Deconstructing Trump's WWE PlaybookThe documentary dissects the specific mechanics of Trump’s performance, identifying three core elements borrowed from professional wrestling that have reshaped modern politics:Hyperbole: The fact-allergic triumphalism where reality is bent to fit a narrative, exemplified by the claim that 'Michael Jordan said I’m better at basketball.'Smack Talk: Strategic rudeness and crowd-bullying, seen in nicknames like 'crooked Hillary' and 'sleepy Joe,' designed to belittle opponents while energizing a base.Kayfabe: The willingness to suspend disbelief. This concept is central to the analysis, suggesting that the audience’s belief in the 'reality' of the performance is more important than the truth itself.The Business of Politics and WrestlingThe documentary highlights the symbiotic relationship between the wrestling industry and Trump’s political career. Key moments include Trump’s infamous appearance at WrestleMania 23, the 'Battle of the Billionaires,' where he physically pushed promoter Vince McMahon. The film also notes the crossover of wrestling personalities into the political sphere, such as Hulk Hogan ripping his shirt open at the Republican National Convention in 2024. Perhaps most striking is the appointment of Linda McMahon, former wrestling executive, as the US Secretary of Education, blurring the lines between entertainment and governance.The Erosion of Reality in Public DiscourseChawawa explores the 'Attitude Era' of the early 2000s, characterized by controversy and stereotypes, as a precursor to Trump’s rhetoric. The film interviews former wrestlers who played villainous roles, such as an Italian-American who played a 'villainous Arab' and Dan Richards, who played a character called 'Progressive Liberal' beaten to pulp by crowds. This analysis extends to Chawawa’s own visit to a 'Magathering' (a Trump supporters' night), where he encounters supporters who believe they have personally investigated the '30,000 lies' Trump told in his first term—a twist that underscores the dangerous power of the 'kayfabe' narrative.The Future of Political PerformanceUltimately, Chawawa suggests that we are all now living within a script. By comparing his own experience to Louis Theroux’s forays into the manosphere, Chawawa argues that cultural and political scripts are ubiquitous. The danger lies not in the performance itself, but in forgetting that it is a performance. As the line between the theatre of wrestling and the reality of politics continues to dissolve, the challenge for the public becomes maintaining the awareness that the show is on, even when the audience believes the drama is real.

The Shift from High School to the "Real World"With the cast now in their early 20s, Euphoria has moved beyond the confines of the American high school, a setting that previously justified the characters' erratic behavior. This transition has exposed a darker, more confronting reality: the misogyny the characters face is no longer a backdrop of lockers and jocks, but a pervasive force in the adult world. The narrative has pivoted to explore the "real world" consequences of their actions, but critics argue the show is failing to provide a nuanced exploration of these themes.Cassie Howard (played by Sydney Sweeney) is trapped in a tradwife fantasy where she is expected to be submissive, despite her husband Nate Jacobs (played by Jacob Elordi) funding their lifestyle through illicit means.Jules Vaughn (played by Hunter Schafer) has dropped out of art school to become a full-time "sugar baby," engaging in sexual fetishes for older men.Rue Bennett (played by Zendaya) has been reduced to a drug mule for a ruthless strip club boss, Alamo Brown.A "Tradwife" Fantasy and the Manosphere InfluenceThe article suggests that Euphoria has become a feminized version of the "manosphere" narrative. This perspective views women as manipulative creatures solely interested in extracting resources—clout and cash—from men. The show's depiction of Cassie, who manipulates Nate into approving her OnlyFans to pay for their wedding, mirrors the misogynistic views found in male-focused online communities. Furthermore, the "gamified" view of life, where success is measured by metrics like wealth and sexual conquest, permeates the show's dialogue and character motivations.The Risk of Nihilism in a Post-Adolescent SettingWithout the protective bubble of high school, the show struggles to justify its characters' hedonism. The article argues that the current plotlines feel nihilistic and lost, lacking the depth found in similar dramas like Industry. By portraying these young women as empty and shallow rather than victims of systemic misogyny, Euphoria risks alienating its audience. The final season appears to be heading toward a bleak conclusion, where the "window of opportunity" for these characters is defined by their exploitation rather than empowerment.

The Manosphere's Influence on Sports CultureIn Louis Theroux's Netflix documentary "Inside the Manosphere," he interviews podcasters, streamers and influencers from across the Red Pill ecosystem. But the most profound moments are when he speaks with their followers. Regular, everyday American men who struggle to make a living, find love, get laid and start a family.One of them is a Latino man in his 20s living in Miami. He explains that Andrew Tate's message helped pull him out of homelessness. What stuck with him wasn't Tate's aggressive bravado or rampant misogyny, but a simple idea: as a man, you start with no inherent value – you have to build it. On its face, it sounds like basic self-help. Beneath it is something harsher: a belief among those in the manosphere that worth is conditional, something that must be earned through performance, discipline and visible results. Under their logic, a "successful" man has a harem of women, luxury cars and a body bulging with muscles.The Physical Scrutiny of Modern AthletesThat message doesn't just live online. You can see it in sports, especially in how we talk about athletes' bodies. This kind of scrutiny isn't new in sports. For decades, female athletes have lived under a similar microscope. Evaluated not just for what they do, but how they look while doing it. Now, men are being pulled into the same dynamic. The standards aren't identical, but the mechanism is.Luka Dončić has become one of the clearest subjects of the scrutiny. Ever since he entered the NBA in 2018, it's been clear that the Slovenian is a Hall of Fame talent. But for all his ability, conversation around him has drifted away from what he does on the court and toward what his body – Dončić has never had the ripped physique of the stereotypical athlete – supposedly says about him.The Performance Standards in Professional BasketballIn Dallas, he led – some would say carried – the Mavericks to the 2024 NBA finals. But long before then, the whispers had started about his "conditioning" and "durability". It began with chatter about his love of hookah and fluctuating weight while in Dallas, before being used as the raison d'être for the since-fired Mavericks general manager, Nico Harrison, trading him to the Los Angeles Lakers.Dončić is far from a perfect player. He argues with refs, confronts opponents, is suspect on defense and has a propensity for hero-ball and, yes, is prone to niggling injuries. But the extra weight he carried – for an athlete mind you, not for a guy off the street – was seen as a symbol of his flaws. Just like the manosphere influencers, the basketball world portrays his supposed physical imperfections as proof of some internal failing.The Media Narrative and Public PerceptionBut the Red Pill race is unwinnable: there's always one more bodybuilding supplement to buy, one more luxury car to show you've made it to the top of the pyramid. And this twisted logic is played out more widely in how Dončić is viewed. At the start of this season, there was a frenzy after he appeared on the cover of Men's Health displaying the kind of body we were told he should have had all along. He went on to play like a demon, leading the NBA in points per game.But even then, Dončić could not win. In February, on The Hoop Collective podcast, Tim MacMahon discussed the Lakers' problems this season, saying: "If there's a 'blame pie', [Dončić] can have a slice of it, but there's plenty to go around." His co-host, Brian Windhorst, joked: "Luka likes pie." There was still gossip about a custody battle with his former partner over their children. Then, when Dončić strained his hamstring as the playoffs approached, and reportedly scoured Europe for a cure, the narrative flipped from "he's lazy" to "he's too driven". The injury brings the vultures back to the carcass. If he rushes back and fails, they will blame his "conditioning". If he stays out to protect his future, they will blame his "heart".The Future of Athlete Evaluation and Cultural ShiftsWhich brings us back to the man in Miami. He is attracted to figures like Tate because he wants to be seen. He is told he can gain worth and value if he just works hard, gets ripped and keeps grinding. But even a millionaire athlete can't win that war in the modern landscape. In sports, out of sports, people are drifting apart. To make it worse, we don't even have a common language to talk about any more. Everything has become a political statement. Look at Dončić. He can weave through double teams and control the entire court, yet we get stuck arguing about his body fat. Yapping about his relationship troubles.In that sense, the manosphere and the sports mainstream are not so far apart. In both, value is something that must be constantly demonstrated – and is just as easily called into question.

A three‑season Arabic comedy series, Smatouha Minni (You Heard It From Me), is turning a rented flat in Beirut’s Gemmayzeh neighbourhood into a satirical battlefield against the region’s rising “red‑pill” misogyny.The Rise of Smatouha Minni: A Feminist Satire from Beirut’s GemmayzehCreated by Amanda Abou Abdallah, the show features actress Maria Elayan in a series of exaggerated characters that mock patriarchal advice, from “change the diapers” jokes to absurd “second‑wife” recommendations. Filmed in a modest living‑room studio, each episode blends comedy sketches with pointed commentary on gender‑based online subcultures.Viewership Metrics and Social ReachInstagram podcaster “Dr Abdullah Mohammed” – 749,000 followers.Series launch: June 2020, now in its third season.Audience: hundreds of thousands of YouTube viewers, with strong engagement from young Arab women.Shifting Gender Narratives in the Arab Media LandscapeThe series arrives amid a “re‑intensification” of patriarchal backlash, fueled by the “red pill” ideology popularised by figures like Andrew Tate. By using humor, Smatouha Minni disarms defensiveness, giving viewers a vocabulary to challenge misogynistic tropes and encouraging dialogue on topics traditionally considered taboo.What Lies Ahead for Satirical Feminist Content in the RegionWith its German registration allowing circumvention of local censorship and an online‑first distribution model, the show is poised to expand its reach. If audience growth continues, similar productions may emerge, further pressuring regional platforms to address gender equity and potentially prompting regulatory responses.

On the eve of Earth Day 2026, the climate crisis remains a polarized battleground, but the conflict is no longer solely about science or economics—it is deeply cultural. Feminist influencer Liz Plank argues that the greatest threat to humankind is not just climate change, but our current definitions of masculinity. This Earth Day, the focus shifts to 'petro-masculinity': a toxic fusion of fossil fuel dependence, climate denial, and authoritarian patriarchal identity that is actively derailing the global green transition.Key DevelopmentsThe phenomenon of petro-masculinity has moved from academic theory to mainstream culture, manifesting in aggressive behaviors and political policies. It represents a defensive reaction where traditional notions of manhood are threatened by the decline of the fossil fuel industry and the rise of environmentalism.The Cultural Clash: The defining moment of this cultural war was the 3.3m-like Twitter/X showdown between manosphere figure Andrew Tate and climate activist Greta Thunberg. Tate’s boastful tweet about his car collection’s emissions, met with Thunberg’s witty retort, symbolized a broader war of identities where fossil fuel use is equated with virility.Anti-Environmental Protest: The 'rolling coal' trend—modifying diesel trucks to belch black smoke—has evolved into a deliberate act of aggression against cyclists and Prius drivers. This is not merely littering; it is a performative rejection of 'feminine' eco-consciousness.Political Backlash: The political sphere mirrors this cultural divide. Policies under the Trump administration included propping up money-losing coal plants in Michigan and canceling offshore wind projects, driven by a desire to protect a 'masculine' industrial legacy.Data & Market ImpactThe impact of petro-masculinity extends beyond social media trends into tangible economic and political shifts. The fossil fuel industry has successfully weaponized gender norms to maintain political influence.Political Donations: The fossil fuel industry has received tens of millions in campaign contributions, yielding major policy returns that prioritize legacy energy over renewable infrastructure.Carbon Footprint Disparity: Sociological studies consistently show that men litter more and recycle less than women, contributing to a disproportionately larger individual carbon footprint.Policy Stagnation: The defense of petro-masculinity has stalled critical infrastructure projects, such as offshore wind farms, costing billions in potential investment and delaying the energy transition.Why This MattersThe rise of petro-masculinity is a significant roadblock to achieving a global consensus on climate action. It transforms environmentalism from a shared global challenge into a gendered battleground, alienating a massive demographic of men who feel their identity is under attack.For the green transition to succeed, it must address the psychological and cultural needs of the working-class men whose livelihoods and identities are tied to extractive industries. Without addressing this, climate policies risk being viewed not as solutions for the collective good, but as attacks on traditional masculinity.Expert InsightThe root of petro-masculinity lies in a crisis of identity. As Cara Daggett, the political scientist who coined the term, explains, fossil fuel extraction is culturally coded as 'masculine,' while environmentalism is coded as 'feminine.' For many men, particularly in working-class communities, accepting climate reality feels like a surrender of their heritage and manhood.However, the solution is not simply 'liberal scolding.' The 'just transition' movement argues that the left must offer a viable economic alternative—one that provides dignity and 'manliness' to new green jobs. The failure to offer these alternatives has led to a political vacuum filled by figures like Andrew Tate, who offer a toxic but comforting narrative of dominance in a changing world.What Happens NextTo overcome petro-masculinity, the climate movement must pivot its strategy from 'decoding' the problem to 're-coding' the solution. This involves reframing green technology as inherently masculine and powerful.Rebranding Green Tech: Companies like Ford are already leading this charge with the launch of the all-electric F-150 Lightning, positioning electric vehicles not as weak, but as powerful tools for the modern man.Workforce Restructuring: The future of the green economy lies in 'he-coding'—marketing renewable energy jobs, such as wind turbine technicians, as rugged, skilled, and traditionally masculine roles.Cultural Shift: Ultimately, overcoming this barrier requires a generational effort to redefine masculinity, moving away from the consumption of resources as a measure of worth toward stewardship and innovation as true expressions of strength.