u/ChangeTheLAUSD

What does “accessible” actually mean when you visit a public attraction?

My family recently visited a new Seattle attraction that had an elevator for wheelchair access. On paper, that sounded encouraging.

In practice, we encountered locked doors, staff confusion, delays, and poor communication. At one point, employees were trying to determine whether my wife's motorized scooter could fit through an alternative doorway instead of simply trying it.

The frustrating part was that the attraction wasn't lacking physical infrastructure. The problem was that the people and procedures around that infrastructure weren't prepared.

Once we finally got through, the ride itself was excellent.

It made me wonder how often “accessible” really means physically possible, rather than practically usable.

“Baby It’s Cold Outside” uses polite, non-explicit language, but the woman repeatedly indicates that she needs to leave while the man continues trying to persuade her to stay.

“WAP,” by contrast, is extraordinarily explicit—but its performers openly express their own sexual desires.

That contrast raises an uncomfortable question: why is explicit female sexuality so often treated as a threat to social standards, while older cultural depictions of women having their boundaries challenged can be treated as harmless entertainment?

I explore what these two songs reveal about changing attitudes toward consent, sexual agency, and women’s freedom to express desire.

The 9/11 terrorists claimed to be acting in the name of Islam. But does blaming Islam for their actions miss a larger question about religion, religious extremism, and the conditions that allow zealotry to flourish?

As an atheist, I explore that question in the context of the 25th anniversary of 9/11 and the way the tragedy continues to be used in American political battles.

How Trump And His Supporters Dragged 9/11 Into Political Mud

Some ’80s rock songs really haven’t aged well

The ’80s gave us an incredible amount of rock music that still holds up. But there are also songs we once sang along to without giving much thought to what the lyrics were actually saying.

Some are simply products of their time. Others go considerably further to normalize things like sexual coercion, predatory behavior, and treating suicide as entertainment.

Where should we draw the line between a song that reflects the attitudes of its era and one that actually deserves to be reconsidered?

This looks at several examples and asks a less comfortable question: what did it say about us that some of these songs became hits?

Presidential accountability depends on more than formal constitutional powers. Congress, the courts, journalists, government agencies, and ultimately voters all play roles in determining whether a president can be held accountable for decisions and statements.

The current administration provides several examples worth examining. Disputes over the Kennedy Center, the continuing conflict with Iran, claims about the state of the economy, and repeated declarations that particular problems have been resolved all raise a related question: what happens when the president's public account of events differs substantially from what other institutions, available data, or subsequent events appear to show?

There are at least two competing possibilities. One is that the existing system contains sufficient checks, but those checks operate slowly and are difficult for the public to see. The other is that formal checks become much less effective when a president has enough political support to dismiss unfavorable information and congressional opposition has little practical ability to force compliance.

What institutional check is most important when presidential statements repeatedly conflict with outside evidence? And are the existing checks actually strong enough to work under those circumstances?

Our increasingly digital lives make communication easier, but they can also strip away the small, physical interactions that remind us we're dealing with other human beings.

A thank-you to an Amazon driver led to an unexpected exchange. Years ago, I also witnessed two very different reactions from musicians receiving flowers from fans. Those moments stayed with me and made me think about what we're losing as more of our interactions move onto screens.

This essay looks at why those small “analog” moments may matter more than we realize.

Accountability in a democracy depends on citizens being able to evaluate what their government does and decide whether leaders have succeeded or failed. That seems straightforward when the evidence is relatively observable. But what happens when political identity affects whether people accept the evidence in the first place?

Trump's attempted repair project at the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool struck me as an interesting case study. What began as a relatively mundane government-maintenance project became a dispute over the project's cost, effectiveness, responsibility for problems, and competing explanations for what had happened.

There are several ways to interpret this. One is that this is simply another example of a government project going badly. Another is that partisan polarization makes people interpret ambiguous evidence differently. A more troubling possibility is that political accountability becomes increasingly difficult when citizens are willing to reject independently observable evidence because it conflicts with their preferred political narrative.

I'm interested in the broader political question: What minimum level of shared agreement about evidence and reality does a democracy need in order for elections and other mechanisms of accountability to function effectively? And can that standard survive intense political polarization?

At a recent El Camino Real Charter High School board meeting, 12 members of the public signed up to speak following the sudden departure of Executive Director David Hussey.

The board's presiding officer repeatedly invoked the Brown Act to restrict what speakers could discuss. But there was an important distinction: the Brown Act wasn't actually being violated.

Because the meeting was designated as a special meeting, the board wasn't required to provide a general public-comment period. Instead, public comments were limited to items on the agenda—and speakers were interrupted when they appeared to stray beyond those boundaries.

I wrote about what happened and why there's a difference between following the letter of a transparency law and honoring its purpose of encouraging meaningful public participation.

I wrote a detailed analysis of the latest controversy at El Camino Real Charter High School after reports that Executive Director David Hussey is no longer with the school amid new allegations of financial improprieties.

The article also revisits an earlier financial scandal, a taxpayer-funded internal investigation that was never released to the public, and the role LAUSD played when it renewed the school's charter despite unresolved questions about transparency and accountability.

Rather than focusing only on the latest allegations, I look at a broader question:

What responsibility does LAUSD have to require full transparency from charter schools before renewing their charters?

I'd be interested in hearing from current and former LAUSD parents, employees, and students. Is the district providing enough oversight of charter schools operating with public funds?

I moved to Washington last year after spending decades in Southern California, and Wild Waves quickly became my new home park. It isn't the biggest or flashiest park, but that's exactly what made me appreciate it. Between Wild Thing, Timberhawk, and the atmosphere of a smaller regional park, it became a place where my daughters and I could make new memories.

Hearing that 2026 will be the park's final season really hit me. Parks like this are becoming harder to keep alive, and replacing nearly 50 years of coaster memories with a massive warehouse feels like the end of something that can't really be replaced.

For those of you who have visited Wild Waves, what are your favorite memories? Do you have a favorite small regional park from the past that still means a lot to you?