GoneTrending

This article originally appeared on 04.14.16

You always stole my thunder. You gave them everything they wanted. You never said no when they asked for anything.

Tina Platamura

A second helping of dessert. Candy before dinner. A few more minutes in the bath. Money for the ice cream truck.

I struggled to show you respect and appreciation while trying to make sure you didn’t spoil my children. I thought you would turn them into “selfish brats” by giving them everything they wanted. I thought they might never learn to wait, to take turns, to share, because you granted their wishes as soon as they opened their mouths and pointed.

---

You held each one of my babies long after they fell asleep. Didn’t you understand that I needed them to learn to fall asleep on their own?

You ran to them as soon as they made the tiniest sound. How would they ever learn to self-soothe?

I resented you for buying the best and most expensive gifts on their birthdays and on Christmas. How could I possibly compete with you?

“I thought they might never learn to wait, to take turns, to share, because you granted their wishes as soon as they opened their mouths and pointed.”

And how they loved afternoons spent with you. You made their favorite things for dinner — three different meals for three different boys. And you always had a little surprise. A present, candy, or a special treat. I didn’t want them to associate you with gifts and sweets. I thought they should love you for you. I tried to tell you this, but you wouldn’t listen.

I spent a lot of time wondering why you did all these things and how I could get you to ease up. I know grandmothers are supposed to “spoil the kids” then send them home, but you were … ridiculous.

Until you were gone.

I had to hold my boys and tell them that their grandma died. It didn’t seem possible — you were supposed to be there for all the other special moments: proms, graduations, weddings. But they lost their grandma too soon and too suddenly. They were not ready to say goodbye.

During those years when I wished you’d stop spoiling them, I never thought about how much you loved them. So much that you showed it in every way possible. Your cooking. The gifts. The candy and sweets. Your presence. The way you could recount every detail of a special moment, whether it was a perfect catch in the outfield or a sweet and slightly off-key note sung at a school concert. Your grandmotherly love for them knew no bounds. Your heart poured love from every place possible — your kitchen, your pocketbook, your words, and your tireless arms.

It’s pointless to dwell on regrets, but I often think about how I had it all wrong. I was so wrong in how I perceived your generosity.

My kids, now in their teens, miss you dearly. And they don’t miss your gifts or your money. They miss you.

They miss running to greet you at the door and hugging you before you could step in. They miss looking up at the bleachers and seeing you, one of their biggest fans, smiling and enthralled to catch their eye. They miss talking to you and hearing your words of wisdom, encouragement and love.

If I could speak to you one more time, I would tell you that every time a precious moment steals my heart, every time I watch them arrive at a new milestone, and every time they amaze me with their perseverance, talents, or triumphs, I think of you. And I wish that they could have you back.

Come back and love them one last time, like no one else in the world but a grandmother could. Bring your sweets and surprises. Reward them with gifts for the smallest accomplishments. Painstakingly prepare their favorite meals. Take them anywhere they want to go. All and only because you love them.

Come back and see how much they’ve grown. Watch each boy becoming his own version of a young man. Be in awe with me as we admire how family, friendship, time, and love helped them grow so beautifully over the years.

The more I long for you to come back, though, the more I realize that in a way, you never left.

I understand now. I know you loved them in every way you could. I know that being their grandma gave you joy and purpose. And of course I know that you can’t come back, but I do know that your love for them will always remain. Your love built them and sheltered them in ways that cannot be described. Your love is a big part of who they are and what they will become as they grow. For this, and for every treat and gift, and every time you held them too long or consoled them too much or let them stay up too late, I will always thank you.

And I will wish a million times that you could do it all again.

This article originally appeared on 04.27.16

There was never just one moment in my family when we “found out” that my dad was an addict.

I think I always knew, but I never saw him actually drinking. Usually, he downed a fifth of vodka before he came home from work or hid tiny bottles in the garage and bathroom cabinets.

---

My name is Ashley, and I am the child of an addict. As a kid, I cried when our family dinner reservation shrunk from four to three after a man with glassy eyes stumbled through the door. I didn’t guzzle the vodka, but I felt the heartbreak of missed birthdays. I feel like I should weigh 500 pounds from all the “I’m sorry” chocolate donuts. I had to grow up quicker, but it made me into the person I am today.

Me and my dad.

I spent many years shouting into journals about why this was happening to me. But this is the thing that no one will tell you about loving someone who has an addiction: it will force you to see the world through different eyes.

Here are some things I’ve learned:

1. When your family’s yelling about burnt toast, they’re probably also yelling about something else.

My family yelled about everything — and nothing — to avoid the messy stuff. We all handled my dad’s addiction differently. My brother devoured sports. My mom took bubble baths. I slammed doors and slammed boyfriends for not understanding my family’s secrets.

Regardless of the preferred coping mechanism, everyone feels pain differently.

2. Your “knight in shining armor” can’t fix this.

Boyfriends became my great escape when I was young. But when I expected them to rescue me from the pain I grew up with, it never worked out. No matter how strapping they looked galloping in on those white horses, they couldn’t save me or fix anything.

In the end, I realized that I had to find healing on my own before I could build a strong relationship.

3. “Don’t tell anyone” is a normal phase.

When my dad punched holes in the wall, my mom covered them up with artwork. I wanted to rip the artwork down to expose all the holes, especially as a bratty teenager. But eventually I realized that it wasn’t my choice. My parents had bills to pay and jobs to keep. I’ve learned it’s common to cover up for dysfunction in your family, especially when it feels like the world expects perfection.

4. Friends probably won’t get it, but you’ll need them anyway.

Bulldozed by broken promises, I remember collapsing on a friend’s couch from the crippling pain of unmet expectations. I hyperventilated. Things felt uncontrollable and hopeless. My friend rubbed my back and just listened.

These are the kinds of friends I will keep forever, the ones who crawled down into the dark places with me and didn’t make me get back up until I was ready.

5. You can’t fix addiction, but you can help.

When I was a teenager, I called a family meeting. I started by playing a Switchfoot song: “This is your life. Are you who you want to be?”

Let’s skip to the punchline: It didn’t work.

It wasn’t just me. Nothing anyone did worked. My dad had to lose a lot — mostly himself — before he hit that place they call “rock bottom.” And, in all honesty, I hate that label because “rock bottom” isn’t just a one-and-done kind of place.

What can you do while you wait for someone to actually want to get help? Sometimes, you just wait. And you hope. And you pray. And you love. And you mostly just wait.

6. Recovery is awkward.

When a counselor gave me scripted lines to follow if my dad relapsed, I wanted to shred those “1-2-3 easy steps” into a million pieces.

For me, there was nothing easy about my dad’s recovery. My whole family had to learn steps to a new dance when my dad went into recovery. The healing dance felt like shuffling and awkwardly stepping on toes. It was uncomfortable; new words, like trust and respect, take time to sink in. And that awkwardness is also OK.

7. I still can’t talk about addiction in the past tense.

Nothing about an addict’s life happens linearly. I learned that early on. My dad cycled through 12-step programs again and again, to the point where I just wanted to hurl whenever anyone tried to talk about it. And then we finally reached a point where it felt like recovery stuck.

But even now, I’ll never say, “My dad used to deal with addiction.” My whole family continues to wrestle with the highs and lows of life with an addict every single day.

8. Happy hours and wedding receptions aren’t easy to attend.

My family will also probably never clink glasses of red wine or stock the fridge full of beer. I’m convinced happy hours and wedding receptions will get easier, but they might not. People get offended when my dad orders a Diet Coke instead of their fine whisky.

Plus, there’s the paranoia factor. Surrounded by flowing liquor, I hate watching my dad crawl out of his skin, tempted to look “normal” and tackle small talk with people we barely know. I’ve learned that this fear will probably last for a while, and it’s because I care.

9. If you close your eyes, the world doesn’t just “get prettier.”

With constant fear of the unknown, sometimes our world is not a pretty place. I remember watching the breaking news on 9/11 and feeling the terror of the planes crashing into the Twin Towers as if I was there.

My dad numbed the anxiety of these dark days with vodka, but this didn’t paint a prettier world for him when he woke up the next day. I’ve dealt with the fear of the unknown with the help of boys, booze, and bad dancing on pool tables. Life hurts for everyone, and I think we all have to decide how we’re going to handle the darkness.

10. Rip off the sign on your back that reads: “KICK ME. MY LIFE SUCKS.”

Sometimes I look in the mirror and I see only my broken journey. In some twisted way, I’m comforted by the dysfunction because it’s kept me company for so long. It’s easy to let the shadow of my family’s past follow me around and choose to drown in the darkness.

But every day, I’m learning to turn on the light. I have to write the next chapter in my recovery story, but I can’t climb that mountain with all this crap weighing me down.

11. It’s OK to forgive, too.

Some people have given me sucky advice about how I should write an anthem on daddy bashing, or how to hit the delete button on the things that shaped my story.

Instead, my dad and I are both learning to celebrate the little things, like the day that he could change my flat tire. On that day, I didn’t have to wonder if he was too drunk to come help me.

I can’t forget all the dark nights of my childhood.

But I’ve learned that for my own well-being, I can’t harbor bitterness until I explode.

Instead, I can love my dad, day by day, and learn to trust in the New Dad — the one with clearer eyes and a full heart. The one who rescues me when I call.

Me and my dad.

I spent many years shouting into journals about why this was happening to me. But this is the thing that no one will tell you about loving someone who has an addiction: it will force you to see the world through different eyes.

Here are some things I’ve learned:

1. When your family’s yelling about burnt toast, they’re probably also yelling about something else.

My family yelled about everything — and nothing — to avoid the messy stuff. We all handled my dad’s addiction differently. My brother devoured sports. My mom took bubble baths. I slammed doors and slammed boyfriends for not understanding my family’s secrets.

Regardless of the preferred coping mechanism, everyone feels pain differently.

2. Your “knight in shining armor” can’t fix this.

Boyfriends became my great escape when I was young. But when I expected them to rescue me from the pain I grew up with, it never worked out. No matter how strapping they looked galloping in on those white horses, they couldn’t save me or fix anything.

In the end, I realized that I had to find healing on my own before I could build a strong relationship.

3. “Don’t tell anyone” is a normal phase.

When my dad punched holes in the wall, my mom covered them up with artwork. I wanted to rip the artwork down to expose all the holes, especially as a bratty teenager. But eventually I realized that it wasn’t my choice. My parents had bills to pay and jobs to keep. I’ve learned it’s common to cover up for dysfunction in your family, especially when it feels like the world expects perfection.

4. Friends probably won’t get it, but you’ll need them anyway.

Bulldozed by broken promises, I remember collapsing on a friend’s couch from the crippling pain of unmet expectations. I hyperventilated. Things felt uncontrollable and hopeless. My friend rubbed my back and just listened.

These are the kinds of friends I will keep forever, the ones who crawled down into the dark places with me and didn’t make me get back up until I was ready.

5. You can’t fix addiction, but you can help.

When I was a teenager, I called a family meeting. I started by playing a Switchfoot song: “This is your life. Are you who you want to be?”

Let’s skip to the punchline: It didn’t work.

It wasn’t just me. Nothing anyone did worked. My dad had to lose a lot — mostly himself — before he hit that place they call “rock bottom.” And, in all honesty, I hate that label because “rock bottom” isn’t just a one-and-done kind of place.

What can you do while you wait for someone to actually want to get help? Sometimes, you just wait. And you hope. And you pray. And you love. And you mostly just wait.

6. Recovery is awkward.

When a counselor gave me scripted lines to follow if my dad relapsed, I wanted to shred those “1-2-3 easy steps” into a million pieces.

For me, there was nothing easy about my dad’s recovery. My whole family had to learn steps to a new dance when my dad went into recovery. The healing dance felt like shuffling and awkwardly stepping on toes. It was uncomfortable; new words, like trust and respect, take time to sink in. And that awkwardness is also OK.

7. I still can’t talk about addiction in the past tense.

Nothing about an addict’s life happens linearly. I learned that early on. My dad cycled through 12-step programs again and again, to the point where I just wanted to hurl whenever anyone tried to talk about it. And then we finally reached a point where it felt like recovery stuck.

But even now, I’ll never say, “My dad used to deal with addiction.” My whole family continues to wrestle with the highs and lows of life with an addict every single day.

8. Happy hours and wedding receptions aren’t easy to attend.

My family will also probably never clink glasses of red wine or stock the fridge full of beer. I’m convinced happy hours and wedding receptions will get easier, but they might not. People get offended when my dad orders a Diet Coke instead of their fine whisky.

Plus, there’s the paranoia factor. Surrounded by flowing liquor, I hate watching my dad crawl out of his skin, tempted to look “normal” and tackle small talk with people we barely know. I’ve learned that this fear will probably last for a while, and it’s because I care.

9. If you close your eyes, the world doesn’t just “get prettier.”

With constant fear of the unknown, sometimes our world is not a pretty place. I remember watching the breaking news on 9/11 and feeling the terror of the planes crashing into the Twin Towers as if I was there.

My dad numbed the anxiety of these dark days with vodka, but this didn’t paint a prettier world for him when he woke up the next day. I’ve dealt with the fear of the unknown with the help of boys, booze, and bad dancing on pool tables. Life hurts for everyone, and I think we all have to decide how we’re going to handle the darkness.

10. Rip off the sign on your back that reads: “KICK ME. MY LIFE SUCKS.”

Sometimes I look in the mirror and I see only my broken journey. In some twisted way, I’m comforted by the dysfunction because it’s kept me company for so long. It’s easy to let the shadow of my family’s past follow me around and choose to drown in the darkness.

But every day, I’m learning to turn on the light. I have to write the next chapter in my recovery story, but I can’t climb that mountain with all this crap weighing me down.

11. It’s OK to forgive, too.

Some people have given me sucky advice about how I should write an anthem on daddy bashing, or how to hit the delete button on the things that shaped my story.

Instead, my dad and I are both learning to celebrate the little things, like the day that he could change my flat tire. On that day, I didn’t have to wonder if he was too drunk to come help me.

I can’t forget all the dark nights of my childhood.

But I’ve learned that for my own well-being, I can’t harbor bitterness until I explode.

Instead, I can love my dad, day by day, and learn to trust in the New Dad — the one with clearer eyes and a full heart. The one who rescues me when I call.

This article originally appeared on 03.28.18

Everyone who lives with autism experiences it somewhat differently. You’ll often hear physicians and advocates refer to the spectrum that exists for those who are autistic, pointing to a wide range of symptoms and skills.

But one thing many autistic people experience is sensory processing issues.

---

For autistic people, processing the world around them when it comes to sight, smell, or touch can be challenging, as their senses are often over- or under-sensitive. Certain situations — like meandering through a congested mall or enduring the nonstop blasting of police sirens — can quickly become unbearable.

This reality is brought to life in a new video by the U.K.’s National Autistic Society (NAS).

The eye-opening PSA takes viewers into the mind of a autistic woman as she thinks about struggling to stay composed in a crowded, noisy train.

It’s worth a watch:

The PSA hit especially close to home for 22-year-old actress and star of the video Saskia Lupin, who is autistic herself. “Overall I feel confused,” she said, of abrupt changes to her routine. “Like I can’t do anything and all sense of rationality is lost.”

She’s not alone.

According to a study cited in NAS’ press release, 75% of autistic people say unexpected changes make them feel socially isolated. What’s more, 67% reported seeing or hearing negative reactions from the public when they try to calm themselves down in such situations — from eyerolls and stares to unwelcome, hurtful comments.

The new PSA aims to improve that last figure in particular.

It’s part of the organization’s Too Much Information campaign — an initiative to build empathy and understanding in allistic (i.e., not autistic) people for those on the spectrum.

“It isn’t that the public sets out to be judgmental towards autistic people,” Mark Lever, chief executive of the NAS, said in a statement in 2016. It’s just that, often, the public doesn’t “see” the autism.

“They see a ‘strange’ man pacing back and forth in a shopping center,” Lever explained, “or a ‘naughty’ girl having a tantrum on a bus, and don’t know how to respond.”

Well, now we do.

Instead of staring, rolling your eyes, or thinking judgmental thoughts about the young person’s parents, remember: You have no idea what that stranger on the train is going through.

“We can’t make the trains run on time,” said Lever. But even the simplest, smallest things — like remembering not to stare and giving a person some space and compassion if they need it — can make a big difference.

World Autism Awareness Week runs from March 26 through April 2, 2018. Spread the word to help make this world a better place for those living with autism.

Once upon a time China was one of Marvel’s best customers. Avengers: Endgame made $629 million there alone. For Iron Man Three, they added multiple scenes in which characters tout the Chinese-made technology saved Tony Stark’s life. The affair has been over for a while now. Since Black Widow, MCU titles have not been granted permission to play in one of the largest moviegoing markets on the planet. That will likely include Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, possibly for a specific — and unsurprising — reason.

China never formally announces that they’ve blocked films from release, much less the reason(s) why. But as per The Hollywood Reporter, among the possible explanations for why the sequel — whose predecessor Hoovered up some $105 million in China almost five years back — doesn’t appear to be headed for the People’s Republic of China is this: It has gay characters. In the film, Michaela Coel, who earned accolades for her show I May Destroy You, plays the Wakandan warrior Aneka, who is in a relationship with the Dora bodyguard Ayo (Florence Kasumba).

There are other likely reasons, too. THR speculates that there may be a de facto band on any Marvel product. Others wonder if they’re still peeved about comments made by Shang-Chi star Simu Liu and Eternals director Chloé Zhao that were critical of China.

Chinese censors have a history of demanding cuts from films that feature gay content and blocking them when studios refuse to comply. Fox played ball with Bohemian Rhapsody, and Warner Bros. elided dialogue about Dumbledore’s homosexuality from the most recent Fantastic Beasts. Disney, however, has held firm, refusing to budge on their Beauty and the Beast redo, Eternals, and Lightyear. But if Wakanda Forever has no chance of playing China, then those talks don’t even need to happen.

Black Panther 2 isn’t the only film China probably won’t let its citizens see. Black Adam is also expected to be denied to the world’s second largest moviegoing market. Star Dwayne Johnson is a huge draw in China, so why block it? THR has a theory: Third-billed Pierce Brosnan posted a photo of him meeting the Dalai Lama 19 years ago, and kissing up to Tibet is a good way to get your movies banned. Still, both will almost certainly do just fine in the end.

(Via THR)

Two of the best fighters in the world will step into the Octagon early next year. The UFC announced on Saturday that Alexander Volkanovski (25-1), the promotion’s featherweight champion and the No. 1 pound-for-pound fighter in the game today, will go toe-to-toe with Islam Makhachev (23-1), the No. 3 P4P fighter and the recently-crowned lightweight champ, at UFC 284 on Feb. 12, 2023.

The announcement came right before UFC 281, and included that this will serve as Makhachev’s first defense of his title.

A native of Australia, Volkanovski, who has not lost since 2013 and is undefeated in all 12 of his bouts in UFC, will have an advantage in that the event is happening on home soil at RAC Arena in Perth. But he’ll be moving up a weight class for the fight and be at a notable size disadvantage, while Makhachev is on quite the hot streak right now.

A student of former UFC champion Khabib Nurmagomedov, Makhachev won the lightweight title at UFC 280 with a dominant performance over Charles Oliveira. After the fight was over, both Makhachev and Volkanovski made clear that they wanted to step into the Octagon with one another.

“We’re obviously pushing for it,” Volkanovski recently said of a fight between the two. “Everyone wants it. We’re going to make it happen.”

Volkanovski has not fought at lightweight since 2016.

This article originally appeared on June 5, 2015

Have you ever wondered if you have a “gay voice”?

If you’re anything like me, the answer is yes. Many times.

For anyone who’s laid awake wondering if your voice is just as gay as you are, I’ve created a rigorous test for you to finally get some answers. Follow the chart below to see if you, in fact, sound like a homosexual. ***(Image needs to pulled from Robbie Couch who wrote the article.)

---

Temporary pic pulled as a place holder

Yes, that’s correct: You do not have a “gay voice” — because a “gay voice” is not really a thing.

Unlike humans, voices do not identify as certain genders or sexual orientations. They’re just … sounds. (Crazy, I know!)

Stereotypes about what LGBTQ people sound like lead some to think their gay-dar can accurately sniff out queer folks in a crowd based on voices alone. However, research shows we actually do a pretty poor job at guessing another person’s sexual orientation solely using our ears.

Even if we do wear our queerness on the tips of our tongues, though, why should it matter?

Some LGBTQ people fret over their voice, fearful their queerness is on display every time they speak. And that concern is understandable. Sometimes, it’s not a matter of accepting yourself, but a matter of survival: When your voice outs you as an “other” in an environment that’s hostile toward gay, transgender, or otherwise queer people, personal safety becomes a priority.

“A lot of gay men are self-conscious about sounding gay because we were persecuted for that when we were young,” LGBTQ activist and media personality Dan Savage said in the 2014 documentary “Do I Sound Gay?”

CNN’s Don Lemon, who is openly gay, also chimed in on the topic. Has he ever felt insecure about “sounding gay”? “I’d have to say, if I told you ‘no,’ I’d be lying,” Lemon admitted in the documentary.

But we should never let a bully’s bigotry convince us our voices should be silenced. You sound perfect the way you are, honey — and don’t you forget it.

Checking out the documentary “Do I Sound Gay?”, available on multiple streaming platforms. Here’s a look at the trailer:

One of the most dominant college football players in all of America is a true freshman. LSU linebacker Harold Perkins Jr., the No. 8 player in the nation in the class of 2022 according to his 247Sports’ Composite rating, has burst onto the scene recently and turned in one of the best performances we’ve seen out of any player this season during the Tigers’ 13-10 win over Arkansas on Saturday afternoon.

By the time the game ended, Perkins had eight tackles (four of which were for loss) and four sacks. There were also a pair of forced fumbles, including one as the Razorbacks were trying to drive down the field that secured a win for the No. 7 team in America.

He is very, very, very good at football despite being a teenager who is just starting his collegiate career. Anyway, the whole “being a teenager” thing reared its ugly head for those of us who are washed on Saturday, as Perkins played the game despite suffering from the flu and puking prior to kick. LSU coach Brian Kelly referenced the obvious — Michael Jordan’s famous Flu Game in the 1997 NBA Finals — but made the mistake of calling him MJ.

In response, Perkins asked Kelly who, exactly, is MJ.

I am operating under the assumption that if Kelly said “Michael Jordan” instead of “MJ,” Perkins would know who his coach meant.

Who’s responsible for the weak Republican results in this year’s midterm elections? Many — including prominent GOPers — say it’s Donald Trump. One MAGA candidate after another either underperformed or flamed out, signaling that conservative voters (and maybe even Fox News) may have finally tired of the big guy. Has that spooked Trump from re-running for president, even if he has to do it from jail? Of course not.

Sources tell The Daily Beast that Trump is holding fast with his plan to announce his third campaign on Tuesday night, nearly two full years before the 2024 election. One source even wrote back, “Rock and Roll!” A Trump adviser told The Daily Beast that they’re not afraid of any Republican challengers, advising that they “show up ready for war, because nothing is off the table.”

Should Trump proceed with the announcement — and given that he’s spent his entire life avoiding true comeuppance (aside, of course, from losing an election), that’s likely — it will arrive despite dramatic pushback from much of the GOP. Since their promised/threatened “red wave” failed to materialize, Republicans have called on the party to move on, to focus instead on a younger impersonator, Ron DeSantis. Trump even lost the Dilbert guy, in part because he keeps making racist taunts.

Others simply want him to hold off. Trump adviser and Getter guy Jason Miller said on Newsmax that Trump doing a premature Kool Aid man burst into the 2024 presidential election could affect the Georgia runoffs, which find incumbent senator Raphael Warnock battling Trump pick Herschel Walker in a neck-and-neck race. Heck, even Trump’s most sycophantic press secretary, Kayleigh McEnany, wants him to hold off.

But Trump may do so regardless, putting his party — which may not gain control of either/both the House or the Senate after all — in further jeopardy. One reason? To get ahead of DeSantis, whom he’s already christened with an uncharacteristically weak nickname. Or he may think that being a declared presidential candidate may discourage the Justice Department, which may come for him over all those government documents he dragged down to his resort home. Or maybe he’ll do it simply because he’s Donald John Trump.

(Via The Daily Beast)

The Miami Heat‘s arena got renamed a little more than a year ago, and due to recent events, the name is about to change again. After being known as American Airlines Arena for more than two decades, the Heat and cryptocurrency firm FTX struck a deal for the stadium to be renamed FTX Arena.

But on Friday, the Heat and Miami-Dade County, which officially owns the building, announced that they’re on the lookout for a new stadium name. FTX filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection earlier in the day in what was the largest crypto-related bankruptcy in history.

“The reports about FTX and its affiliates are extremely disappointing,” the statement read. “Miami-Dade County and the Miami HEAT are immediately taking action to terminate our business relationships with FTX. We will be working together to find a new naming rights partner for the arena.”

Brian Windhorst of ESPN laid out the financials of the deal, which was supposed to be a 19-year naming rights agreement.

The county, which owns the arena, signed a 19-year, $135 million deal for the bayfront Heat homecourt’s name in 2021. After an initial balloon payment of $14 million, FTX was scheduled to make a $5.5 million payment in January.

The Heat are not the only NBA team that named its stadium after a crypto company. In late 2021, the Lakers and Clippers’ stadium, previously known as Staples Center, was renamed Crypto.com Arena.

In the last days of October, Elon Musk took control of Twitter, but he’s already accomplished so much. No, he hasn’t saved the social media service from racist and bigoted trolls. Quite the opposite. Instead, he’s implemented “bold” moves, hoping to turn the famously unprofitable joint profitable. But those plans have backfired spectacularly, and are now even hurting other businesses.

As per Fortune, on Friday the pharmaceutical company Elli Lilly became the latest victim of practical jokers exploiting — or even showing the underlying problems with — Musk’s Twitter Blue, his since put-on-pause feature, in which users can fork over a mere $8 for a coveted blue check mark. The original checks were there to verify the veracity of accounts belonging to celebrities, journalists, and other public figures. But the new one has perhaps inevitably led to a rash of impersonators. Some of them were satirical. Whoever created one faux-Elli Lilly account sure was.

“We are excited to announce insulin is free now,” said the ersatz account, which bore the name and avatar of the one for the real Elli Lilly.

It might have been a joke — a dark, angry joke about what pharmaceutical companies charge those with diabetes just to survive — but it had real life consequences. No, Elli Lilly didn’t actually announce insulin was now free of charge. Instead, hours after the post, the company’s stock plummeted.

Something similar happened to the weapons manufacturer Lockheed Martin, when a joke account claimed they were “halting all weapon sales to Saudi Arabia, Israel and the United States until further investigation into their record of human rights abuses.” Their stocks, too, sank.

In other words, what was supposed to make Twitter profitable may doom it to financial peril.

(Via Fortune)