Good afternoon from staff writer Alex Shephard, writing from snowy New York City, which is (briefly) beautiful before everything turns to charcoal-tinted slush. I just took my pandemic rescue dog for her first walk in the snow, which she did not care for in the slightest—breaking the heart of this native western New Yorker. 

Today is January 7, which means yesterday was January 6. My colleague Walter Shapiro made the case that President Biden’s fiery speech yesterday morning was a “turning point” in his presidency, noting that he “went for the jugular, not the capillaries.” I’m inclined to agree. For most of the last year, Biden has avoided direct shots at his predecessor. Yesterday, we saw him take the gloves off—all without naming Donald Trump—for the first time in a very long time, branding Trump a loser and previewing a part of the Democratic Party’s midterm message: There is one—and only one—party that actually cares about defending democracy. Tim Noah, meanwhile, argued that Lindsey Graham (who condemned the assault on the Capitol a year ago) was “waving the bloody shirt” in his response to Biden’s speech. I made the case that a year after the riot at the Capitol, the Republican Party is in Trump’s pocket more than ever before and has more radically remade itself than it did during the preceding four years.  

In other news, the Supreme Court will consider whether vaccine mandates from the Biden administration affecting large businesses and health care facilities can go ahead. Earlier this week, Andrew Koppelman argued that the case against the mandates is severely flawed—but that it nevertheless may appeal to some of the court’s conservative justices. New York, meanwhile, marked the highest number of Covid-19 deaths since vaccinations began earlier this year. 

In media news, The New York Times purchased The Athletic for a (reported) $550 million. The Athletic, a startup that once aimed to replace the sports sections in newspapers across the country, has now been swallowed up by the country’s biggest newspaper—though, at this point, the Times more closely resembles the Death Star than it does the papers its newest acquisition poached much of its sizable staff from. Writing in Defector, Ray Ratto made the case that Athletic co-founder Alex Mather—who infamously boasted that his goal was to destroy local newspapers, back in 2017—now found “his creation … inside the whale he wanted to harpoon.” The Times has thus far been quiet about its plans for The Athletic. 

My phone, meanwhile, has been blowing up over the case of Filippo Bernardini, the rights coordinator for Simon & Schuster UK, who was arrested by the FBI on Wednesday and accused of being the “Spine Collector”—a mysterious figure who had for years been posing as various people in the industry to steal copies of books before they were published. Rumors about the Spine Collector had been circulating among publishing professionals in America, Europe, and Asia for years. Bernardini allegedly registered more than 160 domains as part of his scheme. And yet, despite his being arrested and charged with wire fraud, the mystery persists. No one really knows why he did it—though, of course, rumors are circulating like crazy. There is still nothing to suggest he was making money from these pilfered advance copies.

Also at NewRepublic.com today: Molly Osberg has a terrific piece making the case that teachers are paying the price for the government’s failure to manage the pandemic. Tim Noah argues that the National Labor Relations Board is finally doing its job—welcome news to this member of the NewsGuild of New York’s executive committee. Daniel Strauss suggests that Marjorie Taylor Greene could lose—maybe. And Jo Livingstone writes about two films, The Lost Daughter and C’mon, C’mon, that take on the boring, terrible, maddening, ordinary, joyous task of parenting. 

Happy Friday,

Every day, our journalists are exposing the right’s assaults on our democracy—and pushing the Democrats to go bold to preserve the republic. Here’s a special offer from The New Republic so you won’t miss their scoops and sharp analysis.

Yesterday’s political history question: On three occasions during the twentieth century, people set off bombs inside the Capitol. When and where were these bombs detonated?

Answer: All three bombs were set off in the Senate.

On November 7, 1983, a group called the Armed Resistance Unit detonated a bomb on the second floor of the Senate. They were protesting U.S. military actions in Grenada and Lebanon.

On March 1, 1971, the Weather Underground blew up a men’s restroom one floor below the Senate chamber. They were protesting U.S. bombing in Laos.

And on July 2, 1915, a former German professor at Harvard named Erich Muenter set off a bomb in the Senate Reception Room. Muenter was trying to discourage U.S. entry into World War I.

All three bombs exploded at night, when the Senate wasn’t in session, and all three did considerable physical damage. But miraculously, none of the three bombs injured or killed anyone. Individual culprits were identified, prosecuted, and imprisoned in the 1983 and 1915 bombings but not in the 1971 case. Muenter died by suicide in jail. A decade earlier, he’d killed his wife, and after he bombed the Senate, but before he was caught, Muenter tried and failed to kill J.P. Morgan Jr., at Morgan’s Long Island estate.

Today’s (non)political history question: Before they were known as the Grateful Dead, the San Francisco–based jam band pioneers were known as The Warlocks. But they changed their name after discovering the existence of another, Texas-based band with that name. Two of the three members of the other Warlocks would go on to form what legendary power trio?