WIRTW #791: the 'awkward' edition

Have you ever seen a celebrity—someone whose work you genuinely love—and completely blown your shot at being normal?

Yeah. Same. It just happened to me.

My daughter and I were on our way to the House of Blues to see Descendents, Frank Turner & The Sleeping Souls, and Nobro. Here's a little secret: Frank Turner is low-key in my top three musicians at this moment in my life.

We parked the car and walked across East Fourth Street toward the venue for a pre-show dinner.

Then I glanced left.

And there he was. Frank Turner himself. Walking down the other side of the street like a regular human being, probably thinking about dinner. Maybe Valentine's Day. Maybe his performance in a few hours. Definitely not thinking about me.

My brain had about half a second to process all of this before my mouth took over.

"WOOO, FRANK TURNER!!!"

Not conversational. Not cool. Not subtle.

Full-volume sidewalk scream.

People stopped. Heads turned. I'm fairly certain a nearby couple thought I was alerting them to an emergency.

Frank's response? Barely a quarter nod. Not a smile. Not a wave. A fractional acknowledgment suggesting, "Yes, I hear you, loud fan," before continuing on his way.

Undeterred—because apparently I hadn't embarrassed myself and my daughter enough—I yelled after him, "We'll see you inside, Frank!"

Friends, he did not turn around.

In my head, this moment was supposed to unfold differently. He laughs. We chat. We discover mutual interests. We exchange numbers. We become besties. I casually mention him in conversation. "Oh yeah, Frank and I were texting…"

Instead, I yelled a man's name across a downtown street while he was out on a Valentine's Day pre-show stroll with his girlfriend.

Jon, not cool. But a story to tell, nonetheless.

To hear the rest of the story about our entire concert experience, check out this week's episode of The Norah and Dad Show, available on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, Overcast, Amazon Music, in your browser, and everywhere else you get your podcasts.

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Here's what I read this week that you should read, too.

A lesson on retaliation from the State of the Union

A lawmaker sits silently during a high-profile speech. He holds up a simple sign protesting a racially offensive depiction of a former president by the current president. No shouting. No profanity. Just a message: this is wrong.

Within minutes, he's escorted out.

Now take off the Capitol dome and put that scene in your workplace.

Culture is what you tolerate

We tell ourselves a comforting lie about bad behavior around sports.

It's just passion.
Just rivalry.
Just trash talk.

Until it's racism.
Until it's misogyny.
Until it's culture.

Two recent soccer incidents make this point.

A wiener of a lawsuit

A bun propped itself atop the deli counter and declared itself lunch. It was golden. Perfectly split. Structurally sound. "Look at my form," it said. "I'm ready to be served." But there was no hot dog inside. All bun, no meat.

That's Mendoza v. Dietz & Watson.

Adela Mendoza, a production employee, sued after her termination, alleging sexual-orientation discrimination, retaliation, and hostile work environment. Dietz fired her for insubordination after she failed to follow a directive to move to a different production line when hers went down. She admitted she knew the rule: insubordination could mean discharge.

The employer's legitimate, nondiscriminatory reason doesn't have to be fancy. It just has to exist and be supported by the record. Here, it had weight. It had snap.

WIRTW #790: the 'protest' edition

Rock 'n' roll has a long history of protest music.

From Woody Guthrie's Tear the Fascists Down to Rage Against the Machine's Killing in the Name, musicians have been poking power in the eye for decades. It's loud. It's uncomfortable. That's the point.

Right now, the amps are pointed squarely at ICE.

Springsteen has drawn headlines. U2 just added its voice. When global superstars wade into immigration enforcement, reaction is guaranteed.

But if you want to understand the emotional core of this moment, don't start with the arena tours.

Start with Billy Bragg's City of Heroes.

This isn't subtle. It's not abstract.

It's a song about complicity.

Bragg opens with the ghost of Martin Niemöller—the pastor whose post-WWII confession about silence in the face of Nazi persecution still echoes.

"When they came for the communists..."
"When they came for the Democrats..."
"When they came for Jews..."

The point is familiar: silence feels safe—until it isn't.

Bragg brings that warning into the present tense, asking: What excuses would you tell yourself if this ever happened to you?

That's not policy debate. That's conscience.

Then it turns personal.

The refrain isn't passive. It's not "I posted." It's not "I tweeted."

It's: "I got in their face."

When they came for immigrants…
For refugees…
For five-year-olds…
To my neighborhood…
When they dragged people from their cars…
Took families from their homes…
Murdered our sister…
Murdered our brother…

…I got in their face.

Bragg ends with a vow: to bear witness to terror, to tyranny, to murder, to fascism.

This isn't about policy. It's about refusing to look away.

I created a playlist of protest songs. Some were written in the shadow of fascism in Europe. Some were born in the civil rights era. Some were recorded in the last news cycle.

Different decades. Different villains. Same instinct.

When artists believe government has crossed a line, they write. They record. They dare you to listen. And to do something.

You don't have to agree with every lyric. You don't have to like the politics. You may think some of it is overwrought.

That's fine.

But protest music tells you something about the cultural moment—what people fear, what they value, what they think is at stake.

What’s missing from my protest pantheon? Drop me an email and tell me what else belongs on the playlist.

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Here's what I read this week that you should read, too.

If you’re going to buy the hype, at least read the fine print

For years, BrewDog invited fans to become "Equity Punks." Not just customers. Owners. Across seven crowdfunding rounds, roughly 220,000 investors poured in about £75 million (that's more than $100 million).

Now, as BrewDog explores a sale or break-up, many Punks may be staring at a zero return, and they are not happy about it.

"Well at least I got £2.34 off an order once. Not a bad return for £500," wrote one online. Another told the BBC, "I invested £12,000 in BrewDog - I think I've lost it all."

Not because the rules changed. But because the rules were always there.

Your ChatGPT history as a hiring test? That's a hard no.

"Take out your phone and open your ChatGPT app. Type this prompt: 'Based on my past conversations, analyze my behavioral tendencies.'"

In a Reddit post that has gone viral, that's what someone claims just happened to them during a job interview.

If that interview scenario is real, the issues aren't just ethical. They're also potentially legal.