On 13 July 2026, New Zealand actor Sam Neill passed away, at age 78, from pneumonia. Diagnosed with advanced lymphoma in 2022, Neill had been in remission, but requiring ongoing monthly chemotherapy treatments. A clinical trial with CAR T-cell therapy judged him cancer free in April 2026, but he succumbed to the pneumonia three months later.
For all its heat, humidity, endless days and toasty nights, Floral Summer doesn’t last all that long, nothing like the three-month span we ascribe to the summer season. In June, most plants are still ramping up, not yet in bloom; and by August, things are definitely on the wane. So it’s just July that showcases the floral fireworks we associate with summer, and that’s all too fleeting.
As the United States prepares to celebrate the 250th anniversary of its Declaration of Independence, it’s only fitting we take a closer look at the chart of the Land of the Free, and the Home of the Brave. This founding document was written in large part by Thomas Jefferson, working on several drafts between June 11th and 28th, 1776. In the midst of this process, on June 18th, a wee bit of space debris, an asteroid that would be named “America” nearly 150 years later, came to a critical stage in its orbit about the sun.
June 2026 saw a bevy of controversies, eccentricities, and record setting. If this is what Uranus in Gemini is going to be like, hold onto your hats for the next seven years! Throughout, referential asteroids in significant placement tell the tales, from an NBA championship to an insulted Italian Prime Minister, a tentative peace deal, a rectified name change, and the world’s first trillionaire.
Somewhere in the midst of all the fireworks and monument upgrades, the competing nonpartisan and partisan 250th birthday celebrations, the gilding and ballroom-building, and the Octagon-style cage matches on the White House lawn, is a weakened, tired, mentally-challenged old man, tuning 80 and facing his mortality. Badly.
The defining feature of the second Trump administration so far has been the Retribution Comeback Tour, with Trump venting his rage on any and all who have ever opposed him, from prosecutors to pundits and politicians, many in his own Party. But providing the backbeat has been an increasingly obvious obsession with gold and gilding. As a metaphor for wealth generally, one of very few things Trump truly seems to care about, gold is certainly apt, but there’s a limit, and Trump doesn’t seem to have found it. From tacky scrollwork embellishments and knickknacks in the Oval Office, to a golden Marie Antoinette-style White House Ballroom, a proposed gold-accented massive Triumphal Arch near Arlington National Cemetery, regilding the equine statues by the Lincoln Memorial, even a larger-than-life gold statue of himself at his Doral golf club, Trump is cranking out more gold than Midas himself would know what to do with.
