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News black hole Jane Schoenbrun Is Set to Adapt Charles Burns’ Black Hole for Netflix The director of I Saw the TV Glow will create, write, and direct the series. By Molly Templeton | Published on October 23, 2025 Photo: A24 Comment 0 Share New Share Photo: A24 Jane Schoenbrun is going back to the ’90s—kinda. The writer and director of I Saw the TV Glow is on board to create, write, and direct a series adaptation of Charles Burns’ comic Black Hole, which first appeared in 1995. The twelve-issue comic series was published over a decade and then collected in graphic novel form in 2005. The story, though, took place in the ’70s, as a group of Seattle-area teens faced a plague spread by sexual contact. It doesn’t sound like Schoenbrun’s Netflix adaptation is going to change too much about the story, but it also isn’t clear when it will take place. The series description, according to Deadline: There’s an old myth that haunts the seemingly perfect small town of Roosevelt: if you have sex too young, you’ll contract the “bug,” a virus that literally turns you into a “monster” from your worst nightmares. Absurd, right? That’s what Chris always assumed, until, after one reckless night at the beginning of senior year, she finds herself infected. Now she’ll be cast out to the woods to live with the other infected, where a chilling, new threat emerges: a serial killer who’s hunting them one-by-one. Time called the collected Black Hole “the best graphic novel of the year” and “one of the most stunning graphic novels yet published.” The New York Times called it “Burns’s masterwork.” And people have been trying to adapt it basically since it appeared in book form. David Fincher and Alexandre Aja are among the directors who considered tackling the project as a film; most recently, Mandalorian director Rick Famuyiwa was attached to a potential film adaptation. It’s an interesting choice for Schoenbrun, whose I Saw the TV Glow was a critical smash last year (it is beloved by many a Reactor writer). Her next project, the slasher film Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma, is set to star Gillian Anderson and Hacks’ Hannah Einbinder (no release date has been announced). Last year, Schoenbrun also announced her debut novel, a “contemporary queer opus” that’s described as “an epic blend of literary fantasy, coming-of-age, sci fi, and horror.”[end-mark] The post Jane Schoenbrun Is Set to Adapt Charles Burns’ <i>Black Hole</i> for Netflix appeared first on Reactor.

Books book reviews More Than Metaphor: The Works of Vermin by Hiron Ennes Hiron Ennes’ second novel, which continues some of the themes of their debut Leech, rarely goes where you’d expect… By Tobias Carroll | Published on October 23, 2025 Comment 0 Share New Share The Works of Vermin, the new novel from Hiron Ennes, has plenty of elements to keep a reader’s attention. You have political intrigue, an evocative setting, and a bestiary’s worth of uncanny creatures, including “the ubiquitous Whitteleston termite, bushels of devilvine, [and] spore-spraying blast mice.” And if all that Ennes sought to do here was tell a story about pest control in an uncanny city, that would likely have been compelling enough reading on its own. Ennes is on to something different here, though; there’s a narrative sleight-of-hand that eventually reveals something far bleaker going on than a conflicted hero facing off against something very large with too many legs. Ennes’ previous novel Leech featured some themes and images that the author returns to in this new book: a penchant for symbiotic and parasitic life forms; troubling power dynamics; and the nature of humanity are all on the table in both novels. Where The Works of Vermin differs from its predecessor is in both its scale and in what Ennes does with those elements. One early chapter here is titled “The Brave Men and Women of Borisch & Sons Extermination Company,” and the contents of the chapter are immediately at odds with the heraldry of that title. When Ennes introduces Guy Moulène, he is adrift in dreams before awakening to another day of work. “[T]he vermin, despite all his fumigants and traps and serrated blades, never seem to die,” Ennes muses here. Guy and his colleague Dawn are tasked with tracking down various creatures large and small, and it’s an especially large beast—imagine a vast centipede that reproduces asexually—that becomes his own personal white whale. The city of Tiliard, where this is set, is built into a massive tree, one whose trunk leads up into the stratosphere. There’s a certain metaphor there—the city as an organism all its own—but there is also a thoroughly fantastical aspect to it: Of course a city built into organic material would have a particularly unique flora and fauna. This is also a city where many people work to pay off debts; throughout, Guy does both his extermination work and various other jobs—including a sideline in sex work—to keep his sister Tyro from going down a similar path. Ennes will occasionally throw in an especially evocative description of a location, like this one: Conundrum Street carves across Tiliard’s face like a duelling scar, a wayward secant interrupting the concentric rings of nearby avenues. The gash is a declaration of the city’s violent prehistory, though no one can quite decide how it was made, or when. True to its name, the street presents a riddle over which academics love to shed blood. [71] Initially, The Works of Vermin feels like it’s going to follow Guy’s efforts to track down a giant creature somewhere in Tiliard and keep it from wreaking havoc on the population. That’s when another character enters the equation: Betram Gorslung, scion of a powerful family, who purchases Borisch & Sons and takes an interest in Guy’s future with the company. [Spoilers follow.] Buy the Book The Works of Vermin Hiron Ennes Buy Book The Works of Vermin Hiron Ennes Buy this book from: AmazonBarnes and NobleiBooksIndieBoundTarget That Bertram’s affable demeanor might be too good to be true is hinted at several times, but becomes much more clear as new additions roll in for The Borisch Manual of Catoptric Pest Species, the comprehensive guide that Guy, Dawn, and their colleagues use as reference when hunting. The 398th entry is for “The Contriver Worm,” which is the massive creature that Guy encounters early in the novel. The 399th is for “an incandescent biofilm born in the nest of tetrapod toxin on the Root of Brewers.” And then we get to number 400, which is for “the first human species added to the list.” This is at roughly the halfway point of the list, and it’s here where the full scope of what Ennes is doing comes into frame. There is, unfortunately, a long history of political factions dehumanizing their opponents by comparing them to pests—and, subsequently, using that dehumanization to justify genocide. The Nazis did this; so too did the Hutu in Rwanda. And if that suggests to you that, under Betram’s control, the newly-merged Borisch-Gorslung has a more sinister agenda, you are very much on to something. There’s more going on here than just Guy’s efforts to pursue a giant creature, keep his sister safe, and avoid becoming embroiled in a growing authoritarian system. There’s also a plot running in parallel to Guy and Tyro’s story, involving a woman named Aster, an increasing amount of intrigue involving the city’s Grand Marshal and Laurel Chancellor, and the arrival in the city of “a stranger, dark and lean” named Mallory vant Passand. Aster is a perfumer, and Ennes adds plenty of sensory detail to these sections. Aster also has a constant cough, which has the effect of producing something inexplicable: She closes her eyes, heaves one last cough, and spits into the handkerchief. Between the dark streaks of mucus lies a clump of soft, undulating tissue, branched like her airways. Bodiless but alive, it flutters its cilia, toxic nodules shimmering along its length like faceted eyes. [47] Seeing how exactly these two threads will eventually converge is one of the pleasures of reading Ennes’s novel. The Works of Vermin is a novel that takes its interest in fauna, fungi, and life cycles seriously; both evolution and metamorphosis play significant thematic roles in the proceedings. Ennes’s new book also suggests an aesthetic kinship with the likes of Jared Pechaček’s The West Passage, Alex Pheby’s Cities of the Weft trilogy, and Tamsyn Muir’s The Locked Tomb novels. Aesthetically, they’re all very different, but they share a visceral gothic quality to them—an ancestry that hints at the influence of Mervyn Peake’s Gormenghast and Jeff VanderMeer’s Ambergris—as well as a meticulous attention to questions of power and how it can be abused. The Works of Vermin is a novel that rarely goes where you’d expect. I went in expecting strange creatures and thrilling adventure, and I got both. But Ennes’s book also contains moving scenes of interpersonal interaction and an unsettling lesson in the abuses of power. It’s a haunting read, but not necessarily for the reasons you’d expect.[end-mark] The Works of Vermin is published by Tor Books. The post More Than Metaphor: <i>The Works of Vermin</i> by Hiron Ennes appeared first on Reactor.

Excerpts Fairy Tales Read an Excerpt From The Changeling Queen by Kimberly Bea A lyrical, sensual, feminist retelling of the Scottish “Ballad of Tam Lin,” combining folklore, desire, sacrifice, and nature’s wonder… By Kimberly Bea | Published on October 23, 2025 Comment 0 Share New Share We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from The Changeling Queen by Kimberly Bea, a retelling of the Ballad of Tam Lin, out from Erewhon Books on October 28. On Samhain in medieval Scotland, pregnant Janet rescues her lover Tam Lin from being sacrificed by the Wild Hunt—but the callous Faery Queen is not finished with them yet. Over the span of a single night, the Queen and Janet spar over Tam Lin’s fate. The Queen aims to win, knowing how fickle mortals can be. Long before she was royalty, she was simply Bess, the changeling daughter of a midwife.Born with magical and mortal blood, Bess feared there was no true place for her on either side of the veil. She found refuge in the arms of the charming Thomas Shepherd, the bastard son of a local noble. While villagers viewed her as a scandal, Bess’s cunning knowledge and secret dark gifts attracted the attention of the elf lord Amadan. Wily and silver-tongued,  Amadan led Bess into Faery’s realm of decadence, where her heart warred against her destiny. She fought to keep both—but at what cost? Samhain, Carterhaugh I should have taken away the lordling’s heart. With my nails sharp as talons, I should have pierced his breast, carved out a cavity inside him, and ripped out the pulsing organ with one hand. Let the soil of Faery feast upon his essence, as he and I once had on honey and nectar. There was a time I could have done so, and he would have thanked me for the pain. Instead, I garbed him as any other of my knights, and hid him among our company. Tonight, we make our Samhain rade. His steed is white as milk, and he rides closest to the town, the sole acknowledgment that he, among all these rid­ers, Aos Sith and Sluagh, pixies and elfin knights, does not belong. He alone is mortal, and the time of his death is nigh. It must come at my hands, though once he was my lover. Our history makes no difference at all. From out of the hedges creeps a mortal woman, scarce more than a girl. Her plaited hair is yellow, her skirts kilted above her knees. And she goes great with child. My heart seems to still within my breast. I did not see her there. How did I, queen of all the canny fae, fail to notice this mortal girl? For now, the scent of her mortality surrounds me, blood and bone turning to dust, flesh eaten by worms and de­caying into the loam to feed the earth. Sharp sweat rises from her, more than such a mirk and chilly night should warrant. I sense she is nervous. Good. Mortals should be nervous when caught out on All Hallows’ Eve, while faery folk do ride. Yet somehow, those nerves failed to stop her. I could al­most be impressed. The girl is hard to look at, even while she stumbles into our path and lumbers alongside the procession of troop­ing fae. Then I see it. Her mantle—she has turned it inside out. Clever girl, knowing how to beguile the senses of the fae. I am not impressed for long. The girl is not graceful, heavily as she carries the child within her, and she walks with determination, rather than speed. But we too do not rush; this is a somber ritual, full of pomp and ceremony, and there has never been any need to before. No mortal would dare interrupt the faery rade. She has caught up to the white steed and, ungainly as the girl is, grips its rider. With an enormous grunt of effort, she pulls Tam Lin off his horse. He falls, dazed, to the forest floor. The rade stops by instinct, not at my command. The horses still, by no order from their riders. The nighttime for­est around us goes unearthly quiet. My breath catches, and I sit rigid, clutching tight to my horse’s reins. “My queen.” My seneschal Lyel, riding beside me on a horse of dapple grey, tersely shakes his head. “This is not the time for intervention. Wait.” This is a game we play, with rules we invented and never deigned to share. This girl, though; somehow, she knows ex­actly what to do. On the other side of the Veil, something withers and dies. I can sense it in my bones. Mayhap a single flower, a cowslip from my garden, or the eglantine that blooms against my palace walls. It does not bode well. My skin grows tight, and a hunger pierces my belly, one that will not be sated by food. I am immortal, age­less, but I feel the heaviness of my years upon me, as if I were a mortal woman, with all the fragility and weakness that entails. No. I am no mortal. I have left behind all that is not pow­erful, fae, and pure. She is mortal. The girl who now would claim Tam Lin. She helps him to his feet. He stumbles and murmurs her name—Janet—before falling into her arms. She catches him, though he towers over her and, while lanky, is heavier than he appears. I have known the weight of Tam Lin atop me, be­neath and beside me: this baron’s boy is a fit specimen indeed. He trembles like a blade of grass in the wind. His Janet holds him up and she holds on, clinging as if she loves him. Needs him. No doubt even thinks she needs him more than we do. She thinks wrong. My belly roils and my mouth tastes of wormwood. I can­not stomach this blatant theft of what was mine alone, what I claimed years ago when Tam Lin fell from his horse while hunting. I saved his life then. Ever since, he has been living on borrowed time. “Hold him, will you?” I say, my voice like thunder in the silent forest. Lightning burns beneath my skin, and I hold my arm aloft, pointing. “Let us see how you enjoy this embrace.” Tam Lin stretches and grows, taller, wider, heavier. Thick fur sprouts across his body; his ears grow round, hands be­come paws, his nails thick claws. He roars, in pain, in horror, or simply to release the beast within. Tam Lin has become a bear. Buy the Book The Changeling Queen Kimberly Bea Buy Book The Changeling Queen Kimberly Bea Buy this book from: AmazonBarnes and NobleiBooksIndieBoundTarget He claws at Janet’s back, tearing through her kirtle and marking the skin. Drooling and frothing at the mouth, he holds her so tight he might squeeze the life out of her. Still, she holds him, heedless of the noise he makes, how he claws at her, and the blood he spills. From the distance, far across the expanse of the Veil, comes the crack of a dead tree, falling into dust. Rage is a maelstrom inside me. I will not give up. “Viper!” I scream, and so Tam Lin becomes, larger than any natural serpent I have seen, squeezing out Janet’s life in his coils. His fangs are sharp and deadly; venom drips off them onto the lady’s flesh, where it burns. She cringes, she grimaces, her face goes green as grass. Yet she does not let him go. She will not let him go. I do not wish to like this girl. Her courage is worse than useless; it is inconvenient, threatening to rob Faery, my Faery, of what it needs. What we call the Teind. I reach deep inside myself for a part of me I thought long banished. What is most toxic to the fae, what is most com­mon among the mortals. I pull this vile substance from Tam Lin himself, the metal flowing through the blood in his veins, from every door hinge and lock he has ever passed, every knife and sword he has held, from armor and buckles and the shoes his horses wear. Iron. I make Tam Lin into what I despise the most, what I most fear, even more than church bells and crosses, holy water, and prayer, for those harm us only so far as the belief in them. Iron is eternal, and so Tam Lin becomes. Then I set him on fire. Janet screams, and her cries rend the silent air of the for­est around us. In her hands now is that which is too hot to hold, a burning brand. She cannot keep it too long in either hand; she’s blistered and burned enough as it is. Yet, she never completely lets go. Instead, she breaks into a run. A galumphing run, with how unbalanced the state of her body has left her. I am startled, if only for a moment. I cry out to the procession of trooping fae: “After her!” “Your Majesty,” my pretty seneschal says, to keep me within the rules of our game. He does not need to finish. I know what he would say. We are not to intervene. “After her—slowly,” I grit out. As if so many fae, of all shapes, natures, and sizes, acting in accord, could move with any great speed. The brownies are short of leg; the lamiae must slither along as snakes do, and the fachan, for one, has only the single foot. The Teind is getting away. I will not call it panic, the sensa­tion rising now in my breast, but it is as close as the Queen of Faery can come. What part of our land is now becoming desert? Where does the Underhill now recede further away from mortal realms? We need that connection to survive. We need sacrifice, the gift of a soul, to survive. At the moment, it does not appear Tam Lin will pro­vide it. I will not let him go. We follow Janet to the well, the very place she must have met her young man, for it has long been a popular trysting place for the fae and the fae-they-seem. Among the ferns and gorse, the well is now grown about with roses that bloom the dark crimson of my hair. Janet trips over them; they catch at her skirts and the thorns tear at her ankles. I smile, for the roses are an extension of me. Janet does not stop until she throws the burning brand into the well. A sizzling rises from within, and I feel it in my flesh, as though some deep and treasured part of me has burnt to ash. It is not over yet. From the well emerges a wet and naked Tam Lin. He stoops and shivers, water drips from the ends of his dark hair into his bonny grey eyes. I wish I had ripped those out. Given him eyes of tree, that he should never have seen this Janet, who even now covers him with her mantle green. Something breaks inside me. It cannot be my heart. I am meant to yield now. Janet has won Tam Lin. I do not remember how to yield. It is a skill I lost long ago. Faery still needs him. The Teind must be paid. I let no show of desperation cloud my face, but calmly dis­mount my horse. My green gossamer skirts settle around me, bedecked with garnets like drops of blood. I raise my arms as I stand before the procession. “My people,” I say. “Our rade is ended. All Hallows is nearly through. Do you now return beyond the Veil.” A mist rises around the creatures of the fae: riders and walkers, Sluagh and Aos Sith alike. My seneschal looks at me in confusion, suspicion, con­cern. My words are his command, but he would act as my conscience and seems reluctant to leave us alone. A conscience is a luxury I cannot afford. I smile sweetly, reassuring him. “I will be safe. What dan­ger can they possess, a pregnant woman and a naked man?” Although I know his worry is not for me. For Samhain is not over yet. And I am no worthy ruler of Faery if I give up Tam Lin without a fight. And so, I begin my tale. Chapter One Selkirkshire, ScotlandImbolc, seventy-five years before My mother always wept that I was not her child. This wounded me far less than knowing she was right. She lost her wits when I was but thirteen years old. We had just delivered the child of Peggy the Cottar, though ’twas born out of wedlock and Peggy had not the coin to pay. Her family never did. Eamon, Mairi’s husband, frowned upon such acts of charity and upon his wife’s cun­ning woman skills; at least, after he’d spent time with our parish priest, he did. But Mairi had never paid that any mind. “Peggy should have come to me long before now,” she con­fided in me as we walked home together. “The moment she first knew her courses were late. I could have helped her bet­ter then.”9 There was no sick person Mairi Grieve would not help. I deeply admired her for that. “Anyway, Eamon was wrong,” she continued. “Peggy paid us, didn’t she?” And she gestured at the ailing chicken I now carried in my arms. “Some fee,” I muttered. The bird was like to die any mo­ment now; its feathers were molting and bedraggled; it sat a half-starved bundle in my arms. “We shall have to nurse this one back to health, too.” And by “we” I likely meant “I.” As the youngest of the household, my job it was to look after the chicks. Mairi laughed and tugged upon one of my plaits. “’Tis good practice for you, my cuckoo!” She always did call me that, the little stranger who had been reared in her nest, like a cuckoo’s egg. Back then, she meant it with affection; had never said it with any malice, only a bit of wistfulness color­ing her tone. “Ye were a good help to me today, lass. I was glad to have ye by my side.” Not so glad as if I were the true Bess, your daughter. I pressed my lips together that the words would not come out. I did not know why the true Bess Grieve had been taken by the faeries, and I left in her place. The Grieve household was riddled with fae, from the shadows who danced upon the walls to the Cait Sith who curled up before the fire and chased away the occasional mouse. I could sense these fae as none of the household’s mortal members did, but never would they speak to me. Only the brownie Morven acknowl­edged me, when I stayed up late to watch her scouring the pans and sweeping out the hearth. “Blood will out,” was the explanation she gave. “I can smell the mortal in ye, lass. I warrant yer blood is tainted, and ye were too sickly to remain in the Faery realm. Consider yerself lucky ye found a home here.” I did consider myself lucky, in some ways. Eamon was not a warm person, but he was prosperous enough to feed and house me and my siblings—nay, Bess’s, really—a noisy and ungrateful throng. Mairi’s work as a healer was not needed to supplement the household income, nor did Eamon welcome it as his status in the village rose, but she was generous in her healing and teaching and far kinder to me than I deserved. Despite this kindness, inside my head the refrain echoed: Not True Bess. Not wholly fae. You are Mairi Grieve’s cuckoo, and that is all you will ever be. On days like this one, when the warm sun beat down upon our heads, and we brought new life into the world, when Mairi Grieve herself had said I was a good help to her, it almost felt like enough. The chicken pecked me, and I tried to get my arms more comfortably around it, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw something pass beside Mairi’s face. Long fingers strok­ing her cheek. I breathed in the scent of musk and loam and green things gone to rot. The world seemed to go still, a heaviness filling the air. Wicked laughter hovered around me, turning to birdsong when I listened close. Then Mairi stumbled, fell to her knees upon the dirt path, dropping her basket of simples and herbs. “Goodwife Mairi!” I cried out, addressing her as my mis­tress since calling her “Mother” would have been a lie. The chicken leapt out of my arms. I let it wander free as I dropped down beside her, my kirtle dragging in the dust. Mairi’s face drooped on the right side; her eyes were star­ing and wild. She murmured words I could not understand, interrupted with the occasional word I could. “The queen… the babe!” she cried out. “Where is the babe? Where is my little Bess, my child?” She is right here, I longed to say, but the words caught in my throat. We of Faery cannot lie. “Raise your arms,” I said instead, as I had heard Mairi herself command her apoplectic patients. “Can ye show me a smile?” Mairi’s left arm rose to her shoulders; the right hung limp and weak. She bared her teeth, but her lip hung down on one side, and she drooled. The shadowy goblins that danced across our walls appeared comely in comparison. Oh, Mairi. She was stricken. Faery-struck, they call it, though neither Mairi nor I much liked the term. And yet— And yet there had been that peculiar green scent. Heavy. Intoxicating. The overly long fingers that touched the side of her face… then vanished. I shook these memories away, as I could not understand what they meant. Instead, with great care, like she was naught but dust and skeleton leaves, I helped Mairi to her feet, let her lean upon me as I walked her home to bed. And not once did she leave it for the next five years. Samhain You are telling us a story?” Janet says incred­ulously. “The hour is late; the night is cold. We wish to go home.” Only three of us stand now in Carterhaugh, by the ancient well, where the roses grow wild and the ferns do droop: Janet and I, and Tam Lin, who was my favored knight and consort. Once I held his heart like a pebble in my hand. Now she does. I do not think Janet will want him, once I am through. I hold my head high beneath my branched crown, pre­tending it has no weight at all. “You would take away the bonniest knight in my company. The least you can do is give me a moment of your time.” “A moment of my time?” Janet pulls her mantle closer around her young lord, then looks me in the eyes. “I have freed Tam Lin. And I have saved his life. I demand you let us go.” There is iron in her spirit, a determined set to her chin. I sense she is not accustomed to being told no. Neither am I. I saunter around her like a hawk circling its prey. “Demand, you say? Such foolhardy words to use to the Queen of Faery herself.” To her credit, Janet drops her gaze. “I am sorry, Your Majesty. But we are nothing to you. Please let us leave.” I only wish they were nothing to me. Yet somewhere in Faery a tree falls. The ground cracks, opens a fissure where nothing can grow. For want of the Teind, our seven-year sac­rifice, the land is dying. It will be on my head if it does. The land will take me with it when it goes. I cannot allow them to leave. I ignore Janet’s pleas, and look down my nose at Tam Lin. With a finger, I push him out of my way. “Do you know, I knew his ancestor? A long, long time ago. And let me tell you, loyalty does not run in the family.” Those grey eyes, though, they do. I should never have let Tam Lin keep them. The lordling opens his mouth to protest, but I flick my finger in the air and he grows silent. I am done listening to him. He is only the prize we fight over. Color rises in Janet’s cheeks, and her spirit burns hot, de­spite the chill of the autumn night. “I do not care how well you knew his ancestor. Tam Lin is not like him.” How would she know? I speak of one who died long be­fore Tam Lin was born. “Nor was Thomas Shepherd like his kin, not at first,” I tell her. “Or, excuse me, you would know him as the baron, Thomas de Lyne.” Tam Lin makes a strangled noise deep in his throat. I wave my hand and free his lips, but throw him such a dark look he stays silent in any case. “Let us go home, Your Majesty,” Janet pleads. “It must be close to dawn.” Her teeth chatter, with cold or with fear, it is impossible to say. “Oh, I shall let you go home,” I tell her, though I give no specifics as to when. “And I shall give him his freedom, as­suming you still want it for him after I have told my tale.” Excerpted from The Changeling Queen, copyright © 2025 by Kimberly Bea. The post Read an Excerpt From <i>The Changeling Queen</i> by Kimberly Bea appeared first on Reactor.

The Trump administration reached yet another deal with a higher education institution, as the University of Virginia agreed to drop its diversity, equity, and inclusion programs.  In exchange, the Justice Department will drop its civil rights investigations into alleged racial discrimination and antisemitism at the public institution famously founded by third President Thomas Jefferson.  “This notable agreement with the University of Virginia will protect students and faculty from unlawful discrimination, ensuring that equal opportunity and fairness are restored,” Assistant Attorney General Harmeet Dhillon of the Justice Department’s Civil Rights Division said in a statement. “We appreciate the progress that the university has made in combatting antisemitism and racial bias, and other American universities should be on alert that the Justice Department will ensure that our federal civil rights laws are enforced for every American, without exception,” Dhillon added.  Previously, private institutions Brown University, Columbia University, and the University of Pennsylvania inked agreements with the Trump administration promising to resolve issues on campus such as antisemitism, males in female sports, and racial preferences in admissions and hiring so they could continue to receive federal funding. However, several universities—including the University of Virginia—had publicly rejected Compact for Academic Excellence in Higher Education offered by the U.S. Department of Education. Under the agreement, the University of Virginia is bound by the Department of Justice’s “Guidance for Recipients of Federal Funding Regarding Unlawful Discrimination” that ensures the school does not engage in unlawful racial discrimination in its university programming, admissions, hiring, or other activities.  The university will be required to provide data to the Justice Department on a quarterly basis through 2028, and the university’s president will certify each quarter that UVA is in compliance with the agreement.  In the meantime, the DOJ will pause its pending investigations into discrimination in the university’s admissions policies and other civil rights concerns. If UVA completes its planned reforms to prohibit DEI policies at the university, the DOJ will close its five remaining investigations of the university.  University of Virginia interim President Paul Mahoney announced the agreement in a message to the university community Wednesday afternoon after he sent a signed copy of the agreement to the DOJ’s Office of Civil Rights.  “We intend to continue our thorough review of our practices and policies to ensure that we are complying with all federal laws,” Mahoney wrote.  “We will also redouble our commitment to the principles of academic freedom, ideological diversity, free expression, and the unyielding pursuit of ‘truth, wherever it may lead,’ as Thomas Jefferson put it,” Mahoney’s message continued. “Through this process, we will do everything we can to assure our community, our partners in state and federal government, and the public that we are worthy of the trust they place in us and the resources they provide us to advance our education, research, and patient care mission.” The post Trump Administration ‘Schools’ Another University Seeking to Keep Federal Tax Dollars appeared first on The Daily Signal.

A group of Republican lawmakers, led by Sen. Ted Cruz of Texas and Rep. Eli Crane of Arizona, are joining the effort to promote a rule to require proof of citizenship on federal voter registration forms.  The lawmakers signed a public comment letter to the U.S. Election Assistance Commission in favor of a petition by America First Legal, a government watchdog group, seeking the proof of citizenship requirement for the voter registration forms, most commonly found at Department of Motor Vehicle locations.  “Requiring documentary proof of citizenship is a simple, commonsense reform. Just as Americans are asked to show identification for far less consequential activities—boarding an airplane, opening a bank account, or even attending certain events—it is entirely reasonable to require proof of citizenship to participate in our elections,” the comment letter says. “This step would not burden eligible voters but would provide an essential check to ensure that only citizens are added to the voter rolls.” “Requiring documentary proof of citizenship will strengthen the integrity of our elections, safeguard the voices of American citizens, and ensure that every lawful vote is protected from being diluted by unlawful ballots,” the comment letter continues.  The America First Legal petition to the Election Assistance Commission for proof of citizenship has drawn considerable reaction from politicians and gained about 353,000 public comments. The petition follows Trump’s March Executive Order 14248, titled “Preserving and Protecting the Integrity of American Elections,” that, among other things, directs federal agencies to take action to prevent noncitizens from voting. Previously, Democrat lawmakers Sen. Alex Padilla of California and Rep. Joseph Morelle of New York signed a letter urging the commission to reject the proposal.  “States already have multiple systems in place to ensure that only eligible Americans vote in elections; states already determine voters’ citizenship statuses without the burdensome requirement requested in the petition,” the Democrat lawmakers wrote in their comment letter. More recently, 14 Republican attorneys general—led by Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton—signed on to a public comment letter to the commission supporting the measure.  In contrast to that, 19 Democrat attorneys general—led by California Attorney General Rob Bonta—signed a letter opposing the rule.  The fact that Texas lawmakers Cruz, Cornyn, and Jackson signed the congressional letter while Paxton led the national effort among attorneys general comes at a time when Texas Secretary of State Jane Nelson reported as many as 2,724 noncitizens were registered to vote in Texas.  Nelson announced this week that her office completed a full comparison of the state’s voter registration list against citizenship data on the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services’ Systematic Alien Verification for Entitlements, or SAVE, database.  Voters identified in the review as potential noncitizens will receive a notice from the county voter registrar and will have 30 days to present proof of citizenship in order to remain a registered voter. Otherwise, the registration will be cancelled, according to the Texas Secretary of State’s Office.  Joining Cruz and Crane in the official comment to the commission were Republican Sens. Ted Budd of North Carolina, Jim Banks of Indiana, Roger Marshall of Kansas, Cindy Hyde-Smith of Mississippi, John Cornyn of Texas, Marsha Blackburn of Tennessee, Ron Johnson of Wisconsin, and Bernie Moreno of Ohio. House members signing on included Republican Reps. Andy Biggs of Arizona, Byron Donalds of Florida, Pat Fallon of Texas, Andy Harris of Maryland, Clay Higgins of Louisiana, Ronny Jackson of Texas, Mary Miller of Illinois, Barry Moore of Alabama, Riley Moore of West Virginia, Derek Schmidt of Kansas, and Greg Steube of Florida.  The post Ted Cruz, Eli Crane Lead Effort to Require Only Citizens Vote appeared first on The Daily Signal.

If you're tired of censorship and dystopian threats against civil liberties, subscribe to Reclaim The Net. Australia’s pro-censorship eSafety Commissioner Julie Inman Grant tried to head off a Senate inquiry into her own powers by sending a pointed five-page letter to shadow communications minister Melissa McIntosh, a document that has only just become public through freedom of information laws. The letter, dated August 29, 2025, and originally obtained by Sky News, was also sent to Opposition Leader Sussan Ley and shadow treasurer Ted O’Brien. We obtained a copy of the letter for you here. In it, the commissioner sought to shape the Coalition’s position on her role and defend her agency against claims of excessive control over online speech. For several years, Inman-Grant has been accused of exercising broad authority over what Australians can see and do on the internet. Although she narrowly avoided a formal Senate probe earlier this year, pressure for an independent investigation has continued. Her letter referenced two Coalition press statements from late July, “Has the eSafety Commissioner Gone Too Far?” and “Albanese Government’s YouTube U-turn.” In response, she wrote that she had “tried to address the majority of the concerns in your press releases” and offered a “full briefing” to McIntosh and her staff. She defended the unelected nature of her position, saying, “Like other statutory positions… the position of eSafety Commissioner (appropriately) is not an elected one.” She claimed accountability mechanisms were already in place, noting that her decisions can be reviewed by the Administrative Review Tribunal, the Federal Court, and the Commonwealth Ombudsman. Inman-Grant also reminded the opposition that earlier Coalition governments had supported the creation of her office, pointing to the Online Safety Act 2021 as the foundation of her authority. A key section of her letter attempted to calm concern over the Search Engine Services (SES) Code, which would require users signed into search platforms to confirm their age, drastically eroding online privacy. While she said logged-out users could still search freely, the code leaves open the possibility of age verification through facial scans or ID uploads. A major proponent of censorship and online speech laws, controversy has long followed the commissioner. Published 2022 emails linked her to efforts to “sideline” US president Donald Trump, and her office was ordered to pay $66,000 to X and Canadian activist Chris Elston after a failed censorship attempt. If you're tired of censorship and dystopian threats against civil liberties, subscribe to Reclaim The Net. The post Australia’s Pro-Censorship eSafety Chief Julie Inman Grant Sought to Sway Coalition Before Senate Inquiry appeared first on Reclaim The Net.

Scenes from the Final NYC Mayoral Debate (Plus a Big Endorsement)

During Tuesday’s edition of The View, moderator Whoopi Goldberg cracked open her woke word dictionary to let viewers know that “the personhunt was on” for the thieves who pilfered Napoleon’s crown jewels from the Louvre (or as she pronounced it the “Louv-er”). Despite it just being a figure of speech, she argued that we should use gender neutral language because we didn’t know the gender of the thieves. And there were other bonkers comments made by the rest of the cast. “Welcome back. The personhunt is on for the thieves – because we don't know if a woman did it, we don't know if a man did it,” she proclaimed. “So, I don't want to say the manhunt, but the personhunt is on for the thieves who stole priceless royal jewelry from the Louv-er [sic] museum in Paris. In a daring daylight heist that sounds right out of a movie!” Seeing as they just got done ripping the new White House Ballroom earlier in the show as “tacky,” co-host Joy Behar followed up on images of the Louvre (one of the most popular museums in the world) by calling the place “tacky.” “Hey, Trump would love that place! It's so tacky!” she declared, getting approval from Goldberg: “Well, he is the Marie Antoinette, ain’t he?” A disturbing and morbid analogy, seeing as Antoinette was executed by guillotine during the French revolution.     Proving once again that The View was the home of misinformation, Behar claimed the thieves left a snarky note, only to admit it was from a different heist: BEHAR: The thieves left a note that said, “A thousand thanks for your poor security.” [Crosstalk] HAINES: Wait. That was -- that's true? They left a note? BEHAR: They left a note. HAINES: That's the biggest middle finger ever. BEHAR: [Checks note card] No, that was at a different – That was a different heist. Sorry. The heist she was referencing wasn’t even in France, let alone at the Louvre, and let alone this century. It was the heist of The Scream painting from the National Museum in Oslo, Norway in 1992. Co-host Sunny Hostin, who used to be a federal prosecutor, actually argued that it’s better for someone to be wearing the stolen jewels than them stuck in a box: HOSTIN: Now, let me preface this by saying theft is wrong. Is a crime. BEHAR: Uh-oh. GOLDBERG: Careful. HOSTIN: But those pretty jewels should not be just in boxes and nobody wearing them! Okay? “So I mean, I think in every heist movie you kind of -- like Lupin or one of those, Thomas Crown Affair, you kind of root for the thieves,” she added. “What type of prosecutor are you, though?” Behar pressed. Co-host Sara Haines jumped in to quip that, “Sunny is just against sex crimes, not jewels.” The transcript is below. Click "expand" to read: ABC’s The View October 21, 2025 11:36:24 a.m. Eastern WHOOPI GOLDBERG: Welcome back. The personhunt is on for the thieves – because we don't know if a woman did it, we don't know if a man did it. So, I don't want to say the manhunt, but the personhunt is on for the thieves who stole priceless royal jewelry from the Louv-er [sic] museum in Paris. In a daring daylight heist that sounds right out of a movie! And here's how ABC News reporter James Longman said it went down. Take a look. [Cuts to video] JAMES LONGMAN: Police say the masked robbers drove up to the side of the museum in a truck mounted with a ladder described as a mobile freight elevator. Police say the lift was extended up to a second floor window which thieves broke open using an angle grinder. From there, they've alleged to have threatened security guards before ransacking the Apollo Gallery. Where Napoleon III's crown jewels were on display. The suspects making off with eight items before escaping on scooters. [Cuts back to live] JOY BEHAR: Talk about – Hey, Trump would love that place! It's so tacky! GOLDBERG: Well, he is the Marie Antoinette, ain’t he? BEHAR: Yeah. GOLDBERG: Anyhoo, were you surprised that they were able to pull this off in broad daylight? At the most popular museum in the world. SARA HAINES: That is crazy. HOSTIN: Yes. BEHAR: The thieves left a note that said, “A thousand thanks for your poor security.” [Crosstalk] HAINES: Wait. That was -- that's true? They left a note? BEHAR: They left a note. HAINES: That's the biggest middle finger ever. BEHAR: [Checks note card] No, that was at a different – That was a different heist. Sorry. [Laughter] HOSTIN: What's very interesting about the security plan at that museum is that it's people first. And so it's guard the people, make sure the people are okay as opposed to the jewels. Now, let me preface this by saying theft is wrong. Is a crime. BEHAR: Uh-oh. GOLDBERG: Careful. HOSTIN: But those pretty jewels should not be just in boxes and nobody wearing them! Okay? So I mean, I think in every heist movie you kind of -- like Lupin or one of those, Thomas Crown Affair, you kind of root for the thieves. (…)