The case before the Supreme Court has already attracted criticism — even from conservative legal experts who have no love for the Biden administration’s policy. Through tortured logic, the State of Missouri has declared itself the injured party even though it’s the loan servicing company, a separate entity, that would lose revenue. Missouri claimed it would be a secondary victim, since the loan authority owes the state $105 million.

But think about that. If Amazon lays off my friend, and my friend owes me $20, can I sue Amazon for making it harder for me to get my money back?
Of course not. In this case, however, the point should be moot, because recent financial statements revealed MOHELA had not made those payments for the past 15 years, and does not appear to have plans to resume them.

Consider the plaintiffs’ reaction to a question that Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson asked about the extent to which MOHELA might be harmed under the debt relief policy, given that it will receive fees for discharging accounts. “It’s very hard to believe,” said Mr. Campbell, the Nebraska solicitor general, “and the government doesn’t offer any details in its reply brief, that a one-time payment of fees for discharging loans will offset the ongoing fee that MOHELA earns from servicing those loans.”

Justice Jackson responded with apparent incredulity. “But isn’t that your burden?” she asked. “You are bringing this lawsuit and you have to establish standing. And so to the extent we’re trying to assess whether or not MOHELA is actually going to be injured, I don’t think you can answer ‘but the government hasn’t said something.’”...

But whether MOHELA has standing is irrelevant; the loan agency is not a party to the suit.

Compare that with the lengths that normal people must go to in order to prove they are eligible for debt relief. They have to submit mountains of documentation. Their claims are often denied for the most trivial of technicalities — a form filled out with green ink instead of black or blue, an electronic signature instead of inked one.

...Ike never denied Tina’s highly publicized claims that he’d abused her, only how much and how badly. But in the great 2021 documentary Tina, Turner made clear that the media’s interest in portraying her as a victim exasperated her. This perhaps explains why, in the ’80s and ’90s, she found solo success with songs that had a kind of hard-won chillness to them. “What’s Love Got to Do With It” and “The Best” are, of course, enormously passionate songs, but they steamroll you gently, dignifiedly, making them apt for all sorts of commercial environments. Around this time, Turner’s lion-mane hair and imperious stage presence lent her the air of a superhero, a perception she embraced with her memorable turn in Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome.

She could have kept going, running victory-lap tours and lending her voice to big-tent projects like she did with her 1995 James Bond theme. But she announced her retirement in 2000 and mostly stuck to it—save one last tour in 2008 and 2009. Her legacy only continued to grow while she watched from her château in Switzerland, where she lived with her husband, Erwin Bach, a former music executive. In pop music, her spirit—a combination of exertion, excellence, vulnerability, and spectacle—has been carried forward by apostles such as Beyoncé. In culture more broadly, her story has become a kind of folktale, told and retold in books and TV shows and on Broadway. By the end of her life, that queen title she dreamed about may have become an understatement.
If anyone is a rock god, it’s Tina Turner.

On June 20, 1953,[12] Hansberry married Robert Nemiroff, a Jewish publisher, songwriter, and political activist.[24] Hansberry and Nemiroff moved to Greenwich Village, the setting of her second Broadway play, The Sign in Sidney Brustein's Window. On the night before their wedding in 1953, Nemiroff and Hansberry protested against the execution of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg in New York City.[25]...

Hansberry was a closeted lesbian.[3][4][5] Before her marriage, she had written in her personal notebooks about her attraction to women.[3][29] In 1957, around the time she separated from Nemiroff, Hansberry contacted the Daughters of Bilitis, the San Francisco-based lesbian rights organization, contributing two letters to their magazine, The Ladder,...

Mumford stated that Hansberry's lesbianism caused her to feel isolated while A Raisin in the Sun catapulted her to fame; still, while "her impulse to cover evidence of her lesbian desires sprang from other anxieties of respectability and conventions of marriage, Hansberry was well on her way to coming out."[37] Near the end of her life, she declared herself "committed [to] this homosexuality thing" and vowed to "create my life—not just accept it".[27] Before her death, she built a circle of gay and lesbian friends, took several lovers, vacationed in Provincetown (where she enjoyed, in her words, "a gathering of the clan",[38] and subscribed to several homophile magazines.[38] Hansberry's atheist views were expressed within her dramas, particularly A Raisin in the Sun. Critics and historians have contextualised the humanist themes of her work within a broader history of Black atheist literature and a wider English language humanist tradition.[39][40]

In 1964, Hansberry and Nemiroff divorced but continued to work together.[41] Upon his ex-wife's death, Robert Nemiroff donated all of Hansberry's personal and professional effects to the New York Public Library. In doing so, he blocked access to all materials related to Hansberry's lesbianism, meaning that no scholars or biographers had access for more than 50 years.[35]