“Fly me to the moon,” Frank Sinatra sang in 1964, “Let me play among the stars.” The song was recorded more than 100 times before Sinatra’s version appeared on his album, It Might as Well Be Swing. It was released one year after President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. In another five years, Sinatra’s recording would play on a Sony TC-50 portable cassette player on the Apollo 10 mission, which orbited the Moon in May 1969. It was fitting that the biggest star in American entertainment — the Chairman of the Board, the leader of the Rat Pack, Mr. Las Vegas and Palm Springs — with those electric blue eyes and buttery voice, would lend his singular vocals to the mid-20th century’s consummate moment. Pop culture meets celebrity meets the American Space Cowboy in one bold, frontier-expanding, mind-blowing, breathtaking, victorious, seemingly impossible starburst adventure into the heavens themselves. What happened to us? Space, that final frontier, is overshadowed by the perpetual glow of screens and the mind-crushing, unimaginative “creator class” more interested in monetizing people’s brain synapses through cat memes and AI slop bots. At one time, astronauts ruled the covers of glossy magazines, nightly newscasts, and film reels. The nation hung breathlessly on NASA updates during our Cold War battle with the Soviet Union. It was a unique convergence of nerd-meets-jock as America’s brightest minds built a pathway to space helmed by the country’s daredevil real-life rocket men who practically double-dog dared each other to blow Death himself a kiss behind the throttles of experimental planes as post-WWII test pilots. These men had the Right Stuff, and Americans were cheering them every step of the way because the very existence of the free world and the American way of life was at stake. At the time, astronauts and just about anyone in NASA’s orbit could be included in the celebrity-hero category. Even astronauts’ wives piqued the American people’s curiosity and subsequent press coverage. They were the first “Real Housewives,” but with a more wholesome, patriotic plotline. Now, famous-for-being-famous is the truthism of our time. Celebrity is not much more than a slurry of performative indulgence, self-important fame whoring, and personal branding. One needs to look at Jeff Bezos’s foray into civilian space travel to see this in action. It was a real cast of characters in the worst all-female remake of a space adventure imaginable. The Girl Power Space Cadets — launched into a few minutes of weightlessness via the Blue Origin spacecraft — were powered by Bezos, who seems plenty happy to orbit his wife’s celestial spheres and send her, in a nod to Jackie Gleason’s Honeymooners character Ralph Kramden, “To the moon!” in addition to making those same celebs angry about buying his way into Monday evening’s Met Gala. What’s a billionaire to do? No, these aren’t heroes, and they barely qualify as celebrities, even by today’s standards. The real astronauts, the ones who should be cruising down New York City’s Fifth Avenue in a ticker-tape parade, who should be invited to speak at every college and university commencement address this graduation season, who should be the star of every party and never have to buy a beer at one ever again, are the Artemis II astronauts. Sure, they didn’t actually land on the moon, but they reached farther into the depths of space than any human ever. They witnessed the Earth set behind the moon. They didn’t listen to Dark Side of the Moon; they experienced it. It was the first crewed flight beyond low Earth orbit since Apollo 17 in 1972, and everyone just shrugged. In fact, when the four-man crew (Victor Glover, Christina Koch, Jeremy Hansen, and Reid Wiseman) recently appeared in the Oval Office standing behind President Donald Trump, not a single question was directed at them by the press. The late comedian-prophet Norm Macdonald is nodding with knowing disappointment from the great beyond. Even when the press asks the Artemis II crew questions, they center on an identity-based narrative rather than the enormity of the accomplishment. To his credit, Victor Glover has redirected this messaging toward an American experience and achievement rather than on his being a black man. We should expect as much from the press and fame ecosystem, where what passes for being a celebrity or an admired entertainer is their “influencer” status. Ask kids these days what career path they aspire to, and influencer is the safe (non-porn-adjacent) answer. If you were to take a time machine and travel back to, say, 1955 and explain that, Yes! We made it to the moon. By golly, we even hit a few golf balls while we were there. And no, not every little Jimmy and Susan aspires to explore the thing that has captured mankind’s imagination for eons and been a reference point for everything from classic literature, science fiction film and television, art and design, and even automobiles and ladies’ undergarments. Kennedy implored his fellow Americans to reach the moon before 1970. In his 1962 address at Rice University about the nation’s efforts into space, he declared, “This country of the United States was not built by those who waited and rested and wished to look behind them. This country was conquered by those who moved forward — and so will space.” Kennedy’s words are a reminder that the American spirit is the driver of great things. The soul of an American yearns for a challenge, to meet what lies beyond the horizon, and to push beyond the quiet complacency of mediocre content dished out to us. We mustn’t accept our exceptionalism as a characteristic of a bygone era. What we should do is turn on Sinatra, gaze up at space, and “See what spring is like, On Jupiter and Mars.”

A new campaign video from former Democratic Rep. Katie Porter jokes about her record of profanely berating staff members, with the California gubernatorial hopeful saying it made her more relatable to the public. Porter said she referenced the moment in her campaign video because it showed Californians that she was someone who took “responsibility” for her former actions and could laugh at herself. Last year, a video resurfaced showing Porter in 2021 yelling at a staff member to “get out of my f***ing shot” when making a video message for the Biden administration.  Porter’s new ad, which features her support for abolishing ICE and calls to “Dump Trump,” concludes with her asking supporters lined up behind her to “please get out of my shot.”  “I think it’s important to show Californians who I really am. I’m someone who’s not like most politicians,” Porter said in an interview with Nexstar Media Group. “I push a shopping cart, fill a minivan. You see that in the ad, but you’ll also see somebody who’s taken responsibility again and again in this race, and is also able to laugh at herself and show that she’s grown. And I think that is a mark of leadership, and I want to show people that.”

This article is part of Upstream, The Daily Wire’s new home for culture and lifestyle. Real human insight and human stories — from our featured writers to you. *** The cultural script about parenthood has consistently sidelined fathers. Women want children, we’re told, and men might eventually be persuaded into fatherhood. But something has shifted. A recent Pew Research Center analysis found that among young adults ages 18 to 34 who do not yet have children, 57% of men say they want kids someday, compared to just 45% of women. This reverses a decades-long pattern in which women consistently reported stronger desires for parenthood than men. Men aren’t just willing to be fathers; they want to be good ones. According to the American Institute for Boys and Men, the time fathers spend with their children has grown by over 250% since the 1960s, and nearly two in three dads still say they spend too little time with their kids. The modern man is no longer confined to the roles of provider and protector alone; emotional connection, caregiving, and presence are now seen as strengths. The useless, comic-relief sitcom dad feels stale, replaced by fathers who are more engaged and treat fatherhood as something to aspire to. This shift is starting to be reflected in culture. Much has already been said about Bandit, the dad in the kids’ show “Bluey,” but we are also seeing changes in video games. Capcom’s recently released title Pragmata has already been dubbed a “dad simulator” by gamers. The game sold over 1 million copies (at $60 a pop) in two days. Pragmata follows Hugh, a man tasked with protecting and guiding a naive young (android) girl through a hostile environment. Beneath the sci-fi combat, players have been drawn to something more resonant: the protective instinct, the mentorship, and the pride of helping someone grow. In short, the best parts of being a dad. Girl-dad here, my daughters are in their early 20s now. To all the guys out there who society told being a responsible father was a fate worse than death, and who are now getting a glimpse through Pragmata of what fatherhood might be like: You were lied to hard, sorry bro,… https://t.co/z2u4mW1kOL pic.twitter.com/ydYk0wXYfl — Timothy Stebbing (@tjstebbing) April 23, 2026 This isn’t an isolated phenomenon. Games such as The Last of Us and God of War have already demonstrated how powerful fatherhood narratives can be. But Joel and Kratos are reluctant, grief-shaped fathers. They remain emotionally distant and walled-off. Hugh, by contrast, takes genuine joy in his pseudo fatherhood. The “sad dad” archetype is giving way to something warmer, and the market response to Pragmata suggests audiences are hungry for it. Video games have always found success as power fantasies with aspirational characters. Now, a significant part of that aspiration includes fatherhood. Why now? Traditional markers of male achievement, such as home ownership, seem unobtainable. The economy feels oppressive, and the cultural narratives that once gave men a clear sense of purpose have grown thin. Masculinity is demonized relentlessly, and young men feel it. Fatherhood offers something concrete: a person who truly needs you and values your very existence. It is no surprise that social media is filled with videos of fathers coming home to hugs from excited children, often captioned with the sentiment, “Other men may be wealthy. This man is rich.” Becoming a dad isn’t the end of freedom but the beginning of something that finally matters. Men are not just accepting fatherhood; they’re seeking it out. They’re dreaming about it. And the culture is starting to catch up. Games like Pragmata offer a different message. Fatherhood is a sacrifice. It always has been. But its legacy outlasts the man, and its reward outlasts his own life.

This article is part of Upstream, The Daily Wire’s new home for culture and lifestyle. Real human insight and human stories — from our featured writers to you. *** In my formative years, my perception of diamonds, engagements, and proposals was shaped largely by my favorite films from Hollywood’s Golden Age. From Audrey Hepburn in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” gazing pensively into the Tiffany windows like a tourist craning up at the Sistine Chapel to Marilyn Monroe in “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes” enshrining the doctrine that “diamonds are a girl’s best friend,” these were the images that first taught me what romance was meant to look like. In such enduring portrayals, elegance came packaged in little blue boxes; they conveyed all the glitz and glamour a young romantic could imagine. So when the time came to think seriously about proposing, the engagement ring in my mind had six prongs and a center stone, though I lacked the terminology to describe it as such at the time. And, as a willing victim of advertising, I did believe the best things came in blue. Having since plunged into the world of engagement rings and diamonds, I have been reliably informed that I was mistaken. Jewelry is intensely personal, and an engagement ring is the most personal of all. Women may still want the thrill of a proposal, but they generally also want some say — and final approval — over the ring’s design. They want to know it is coming, just not exactly when. Despite Hollywood’s portrayals, proposals are rarely shocking; more often, they are carefully forewarned surprises (sort of like the raid on Osama bin Laden’s compound). If this strikes you as contradictory, I refer you to Oscar Wilde, who once remarked that women are meant to be loved, not understood. In any case, fear not, gentlemen: I shall share what I have learned. Women, too, may glean something from it, as many of my own lessons came from consulting my girlfriend. The engagement-ring market, as I discovered, is not a single industry so much as several overlapping ones. At the top sit luxury houses like Tiffany and Cartier, where one pays a handsome premium for heritage, branding (I soon learned the more apropos slogan is that the most marked-up things come in blue), and the carefully curated experience of buying there, right down to Cartier’s complimentary Champagne. Beneath them are the conventional retail jewelers found in malls, offering convenience and ready-made inventory but still carrying substantial markup. Then come wholesale independent jewelers, who source stones directly and can create custom rings, usually without grand showrooms but with greater flexibility and better value. Finally, there is the vintage, estate, and resale market, where buyers seek out older or previously owned rings for their character, individuality, or potential savings. For the uninitiated, natural diamonds are typically judged according to the famous four Cs: cut, carat, clarity, and color. Carat refers to weight, though most people understandably think of it as size; roughly 0.9 to 1.5 carats is a common range. Cut, confusingly, does not refer to shape, but to how well the stone has been fashioned to catch and reflect light. Shape is its own category: round is the old standby, while cuts such as cushion, oval, pear, and emerald drift in and out of fashion with the tides of taste. Clarity and color, meanwhile, measure the degree of internal imperfections and tint, ranging from the visibly flawed to the nearly immaculate. To put this in perspective with actual prices, a high-quality one-carat diamond ring from Tiffany — say, G color, VVS1 clarity, and an excellent cut — starts at around $20,000. If, instead, you skip the luxury tier and visit the sort of jewelry store your mother might browse in the mall while your father is off trying on shoes, a similarly specced ring will run closer to $8,000. Then there is the route I ultimately took: an independent jeweler recommended by a recently wed friend. There is no grand showroom, so it requires more preparation; you need to know what you want. But, as I learned, you can show such a jeweler the $20,000 Tiffany ring of your dreams and have it replicated for $5,000. Mine even told me that, if I were desperate enough, he could source the Tiffany box and papers, too. “I know a guy,” he said. But knockoff Tiffany papers are not the only route to discount luxury in the jewelry world. You may have heard of lab-grown diamonds. With recent leaps in technology, lab-grown diamonds in the late 2010s were to the diamond industry what quartz watches were to Swiss horology in the 1980s: a major disruptor and a tech-driven solution to a laborious and difficult-to-source product. They have become so uniformly high in color and clarity that the old precision of diamond grading increasingly feels beside the point. As one jeweler explained to me, they are visually flawless diamonds, cost roughly $100 per carat to manufacture, and retail for somewhere between $500 and $1,500 per carat. They are cheap, plentiful, and readily available — ideal, if your ambition is to tone your fiancée’s arm by weighing it down with a baseball-sized behemoth that, if naturally mined, would fetch a price rivaling that of an exotic sports car. Even affluent clients, the jeweler told me, often opt for lab-grown when faced with the choice between spending $5,000 and $300,000 on what is, to the naked eye, effectively the same stone. Given the striking disparity in cost and virtual lack thereof in appearance, why would anyone opt for a natural diamond over lab? Some bleeding-heart voices will still invoke the specter of blood diamonds. But with the Kimberley Process — the international certification scheme for rough diamonds — now covering roughly 99.8% of global rough-diamond production, it is exceedingly difficult to turn your proposal plans into a vehicle for financing African warlord insurgencies, even if you were so inclined. The decision instead comes down to preference, provenance, and resale value. They say diamonds are forever, but not all diamonds hold their value forever. Though no diamonds should be thought of as investments or reliable stores of value, natural diamonds will at least retain some fraction of what you paid; their lab-grown counterparts, however, retain virtually no resale value at all. There is also something undeniably romantic about a natural diamond being more than a billion years old. In a world of fast and disposable fashion, it has an advantage over modern consumer goods in that it predates civilization and will certainly outlast it. If that connection to older, grander, and less synthetic worlds appeals to you, old mine-cut and old European-cut diamonds are also worth considering over the modern brilliant cut. These were styles associated with the Georgian, Victorian, Edwardian, and Art Deco eras, evolving from the squarish, hand-cut old mine style to the rounder old European before the modern brilliant arrived with the technical precision to maximize sparkle. The older cuts were fashioned to be admired under candlelight, before the widespread adoption of electric bulbs, giving them a softer, moodier glow. They feel closer in spirit to the sparkling socialites of the Gilded Age than to the moneyed influencers of social media. In the end, the European cut was the one we chose. It was a beautiful and singular stone and, as the jeweler explained, much harder to come by in such higher-grade colors and clarities: “I can get 10 of these brilliant-cut diamonds for you tomorrow. This European one? I can maybe find a handful a year.” The jeweler also explained that, in certain friend groups and social circles, there is increasing pressure toward larger stones. “If all her friends are showing off massive three-carat diamonds, maybe she doesn’t want a quaint 1.2-carat natural.” Thankfully, this was not my predicament; none of my girlfriend’s friends are married yet. Lab-grown diamonds, for all the snobbery they may still attract, have also democratized entry into a world once guarded by prohibitive prices. A young man no longer needs to bankrupt himself or delay proposing for a decade to participate in marriage. Engagement rings may be, in part, an offshoot of marketing and media, but they are now as fixed a feature of our culture as diamonds themselves, and, like refusing to read the directions or carrying all the groceries from the car in a single trip, seem to have become one of those things expected of us men. The old Tiffany fantasy still has its charm, but romance, as it turns out, is not a faithful reenactment of a Billy Wilder script. Rather, it is learning what the woman you love actually wants and then finding a way (within budget) to give it to her. By the way, she said yes. *** Harry Khachatrian (@Harry1T6) is a film critic for the Washington Examiner. He is a software engineer, holds a master’s degree from the University of Toronto, and writes about wine at BetweenBottles.com.

The U.S. Secret Service said Monday it is investigating an officer-involved shooting near the White House. The shooting occurred at 15th Street and Independence Avenue in Washington, D.C., which is about one mile from the White House. “One individual was shot by law enforcement; their condition is currently unknown,” a Secret Service spokesperson said in a statement. The incident resulted from a confrontation between an armed individual and Secret Service Police. Metropolitan Police said the scene of the shooting was secure, but urged people to avoid the area due to road closures. UPDATE: 1 person shot by law enforcement near the White House. Circumstances still unclear. pic.twitter.com/rdWhudrwFM — BNO News (@BNONews) May 4, 2026 President Trump was giving remarks at a small business summit in the East Room of the White House at the time. Secret Service agents evacuated reporters from their camera positions on the north lawn and gathered them in the briefing room. U.S. Secret Service just evacuated us from our camera position at the White House north lawn. We’re now gathering in the briefing room. No indication as to what’s going on pic.twitter.com/G49ZVayIHx — Megan Cassella (@mmcassella) May 4, 2026