MEMPHIS, Tenn. (AP) — A medical equipment sterilizing plant that uses a chemical whose emissions could lead to cancer and other health risks says it plans to close its Tennessee location by next spring, according to a letter sent by the company to U.S. Rep. Steve Cohen.

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Welcome to Up for Debate. Each week, Conor Friedersdorf rounds up timely conversations and solicits reader responses to one thought-provoking question. Later, he publishes some thoughtful replies. Sign up for the newsletter here.

Last week I asked readers, “If you could pose one earnest question to any of the Republican candidates, what would it be?”

Replies have been edited for length and clarity.

Glen posed one of the most popular questions: “Who was the legitimate winner of the 2020 presidential election?”

JoAnn asked, “Would you still support Donald Trump for president if the January 6 crowd had hung or harmed Mike Pence or Nancy Pelosi?”

Greg offered an amusing variation: “If, as Trump and many of his allies claim, he won in 2020, wouldn’t this mean that he had won the presidency twice and therefore could not run again?”

Dean wrote:

One question I would want to ask the Republican candidates not named Trump is, “How would your administration govern differently from a Trump administration?” That the question even needs to be asked speaks to a failure on the part of these candidates, who shouldn’t need prodding to distinguish themselves from the former president and his governing style. After all, if anyone can beat Trump in the Republican primary, it surely won’t be an empty suit. The question I ask above is distinct from all those questions that would ask for a candidate’s reactive attitudes toward all things Trump, which are backward-looking and demand little more from the candidates than their poll-tested praise or condemnation. What have the candidates learned from the Trump presidency (warts and all)? How do each of them intend to build upon whatever they take to be its successes while avoiding its failures, which have to include losing the presidency after a single term? What will they do differently and why?

Matters of character were a recurring theme.

Katherine asked, “How do you personally define integrity, and how do you think you’ve represented it in both your private and political career?”

Joseph wrote, “You have articulated various ideological, philosophical, and moral principles in your campaign. Are there any good things that your principles prevent you from doing? Are there any policy goals that you believe are good but refuse to implement based on your principles?”

Cynthia asked, “Why do so many evangelicals embrace a man who in no way, shape, or form embodies anything remotely Christian?”

Clifford wondered, “Do you believe that Trump should be returned to the White House despite his obvious criminality? If yes, how does that square with your party’s law-and-order mantra?”

Paul focused on the economy:

Economic globalization has created many winners and many losers. For Americans who’ve found themselves left behind by these economic shifts, what specific, realistic policies or programs will you sponsor to help these Americans to develop the skills and abilities to participate and succeed more fully in the 21st-century workforce? I’m not interested in the blame game but rather in concrete, specific actions you will take that will be helpful.

So did Eric, who wrote, “Despite low unemployment, economic pessimism remains high, stemming from real wages failing to keep up with costs, particularly for the low-income. What would you do to fix that?”

DC asked, “What brings you the most joy in life?”

Many of you evinced concern about how to live together despite our differences.

Carolyn wrote:

Our unique U.S. Constitution was the result of productive debate and compromise conducted under uncomfortably hot and sticky conditions that could have led to short tempers and bickering instead of a democracy. In the now temperature-controlled chambers of government, what procedures and strategies will you promise to use to prioritize compromise for the good of the country instead of nonproductive and/or clearly biased party politics?

Karen wrote, “American democracy requires negotiation and compromise to work. Can you give something to the opposition in order to get things done, even if it angers your base?”

Gregg asked, “What will you do to unify all people in the U.S.A., not just your party?”

Bob wondered, “As president, what would you do to address the divisive hatred within America and restore civility?”

Francis wrote, “Name three pieces of legislation you would introduce, define, explain, and promote for congressional approval that would benefit ALL U.S. citizens?”

Connie wrote:

In our very divided country, what tactics would you implement to bring the far right and the far left closer together so our country thrives and is more respectful to our differences in beliefs?   

Milton asked, “Do you think the election of Trump has brought this country together or divided it further?”

Vickie had a question for Ron DeSantis: “I live in Florida and I would like DeSantis to explain the definition of ‘woke’ and his plans to fight it.”

Zbig asked:

Why do you think the U.S.-Mexico border should be closed but you don’t criticize those who illegally employ illegal immigrants? What legal consequences do you recommend?

Douglas asked about women’s health care:

Idaho has banned abortions. As a result, OB/GYN physicians have left, leaving no maternity or postnatal care for women and babies in the region. What will your administration do to ensure women’s medical health and safety in states where abortion is banned or severely limited and medical doctors are leaving?

Steve asked about the environment:

The Republican response to the climate crisis is at best a “wait and see” approach, and at worst, denial of the seriousness of the problem, if not contempt for the scientific consensus of how dire the situation is. What is the scientific basis for their refutation of the severity of climate change, or is it nothing more than wishful thinking, delusional belief, and apathy?

Daniel asked, “How hot will the planet have to get before we do something about global warming?”

Peter asked, “How much money have you taken from fossil-fuel companies in the last 10 years?”

Krista wrote:

Recent years have seen an increase in extreme weather conditions, including hottest-ever days and months. If $200 billion had to be spent to try to minimize the damages of these events moving forward, how would you utilize it to best protect us?

June wrote:

There was a time when the Republican Party did not want government to intrude into people’s private lives. That seems to have changed. Why?

Liz has a question for Nikki Haley: “What have you learned about the world’s politics, friendships, and dangers from your years as ambassador to the UN that might not be available to other candidates?”

Andrew wrote:

Mr. Ramaswamy, given your reticence to assist Ukraine in its struggle against Russia, are there any European countries that you think would deserve our military aid should Russia prevail over Ukrainian forces and move on into other former Soviet Bloc nations?

Randall asked, “Suppose you don’t win this election, and then you decide to do something else instead that is really admirable. What would that be?”

Scott wanted to know about priorities. “The United States faces numerous challenges,” he wrote. “If you had to rank them, what would be your top three?”

G. asked, “What limit, if any, do you believe there should be on gifts to members of the Supreme Court?”

Parrish asked, “What is your plan for addressing the high number of immigrants at our southern borders?”

Mark wrote, “In relation to aid to Ukraine, what is the cost of freedom versus the value of freedom?”

Judy asked, “What books have you read and what have you learned about the world and history?”

Jessica wondered, “Do you think of truth as grounded in objective, physical reality or as grounded in the instrumental and spiritual needs of people?”

Linda asked, “If you support Trump and he’s polled much higher than anyone running, why wouldn’t you drop out of the race so he could win?”

JM wrote, “If you could change one provision in the U.S. Constitution, what would it be, and why?”

And Jaleelah wrote:

I obviously wouldn’t ask a question that any reporter has already posed …  Questions for which most candidates have canned responses prepared are also off the table … I would really like to ask two questions. I believe that testing candidates’ commitments to consistency and equality is the only task I am uniquely suited for. If that’s allowed, I would pose this set to each candidate individually:

“Do you support Americans’ right to defend their homes with force in the event that an invader attempts to destroy or steal their property?”

Follow-up question:

“Do you support Palestinians’ right to defend their homes with force in the event that an invader attempts to destroy or steal their property?”

American politicians often dance around the fact that they believe Palestinian people are entitled to fewer rights than others. I would like to hear Republican candidates either upend my assumptions about them or confirm my suspicions to my face.

This article contains spoilers through the Season 2 finale of And Just Like That.

Throughout the original run of Sex and the City, the comforts of wealth often smoothed out the roughest conflicts—especially in romantic relationships. Friends and lovers alike papered over their transgressions by purchasing jewelry, planning overseas trips, and paying for extravagant dinners. And in true New York City form, the most meaningful gifts didn’t come in diamond but in brass, silver, nickel, and steel: house keys.

Take the decision by Carrie (played by Sarah Jessica Parker) and Mr. Big (Chris Noth) to get married in the first movie. Prompted by his purchase of a massive Park Avenue penthouse for them to live in, Carrie—ever the luxury-shoe obsessive—asked him to skip the engagement ring and instead build her a really big closet so the new apartment would feel like her home too. When Charlotte (Kristin Davis) was splitting from her lily-livered husband, he kindly—and unexpectedly—barred his overbearing mother from taking their posh Upper East Side home in the divorce proceedings. And for Miranda (Cynthia Nixon), decamping to Brooklyn at the request of her husband, Steve (David Eigenberg), was a clear sign of her devotion to their family, more so than the fact that she had proposed to him.

During the second season of And Just Like That, the franchise’s modern-day reboot, the widowed Carrie—who lost Big in the series premiere—is once again weighing what it will take for her to hold on to a love-filled home. She reunites with Aidan (John Corbett), the furniture-designing ex-fiancé who once bought the apartment next door to her decade-defining Upper East Side alcove studio in the hope of tearing down the wall between them, both literally and metaphorically. Two decades after Carrie’s cold feet ended their engagement, he is a divorced father of three living on a farm in Norfolk, Virginia, and seemingly primed for a renewed connection. But as they strike up a whirlwind courtship, Aidan refuses to step foot in her apartment, which has been Carrie’s refuge since Big’s death. “This is where we ended,” Aidan tells her after their first post-date taxi pulls up at the familiar address. “It’s all bad. And it’s just, it’s all in there.”

[Read: And Just Like That addresses its Che Diaz problem]

In the clumsily titled season finale, “The Last Supper Part Two: Entree,” written by Sex and the City stalwarts Michael Patrick King, Darren Star, and Candace Bushnell, Aidan finally crosses that charged threshold. But he arrives with no overnight bag, which immediately alerts Carrie that he’s come to confess what she’s been fearing: It’s not going to work out, at least not for awhile. The previous episode saw Aidan sitting in a hospital parking lot, furious with himself after his youngest son was critically injured in a drunk-driving accident on the way to Aidan’s empty Virginia house. Carrie, equipped with a lavish inheritance, has just purchased a massive townhouse in Gramercy Park, a light-filled dream big enough to fit Aidan and even his teenage sons. But for now, Aidan says, sitting at her dining table, his only home is with his children. Any plans to cohabit in New York will have to wait until his youngest is 18—another five years.

Though it may not signal a true end to their reunion, Aidan’s pained declaration is one of the first instances of a character on the status-obsessed series rebuffing a grandiose, property-related display of affection. It’s an intriguing direction for a show that has so often let its characters get away with throwing money at seemingly intractable problems. Although the series is occasionally maddening to watch, it hits its stride whenever it calls back to those landmark New York City homes that shape its characters and their relationships to one another without always giving in to the franchise’s overly sentimental impulses.

Steve and Miranda’s conversation in the season finale—their first warm exchange since the Season 1 dissolution of their marriage—reflects this awareness. Noting that she’d like them to stay in each other’s lives, Miranda admits that he was right to suggest they move to Brooklyn when they did, because they’d never be able to afford that house in the present. A genial bartender from Queens, Steve wasn’t as financially secure as the former corporate lawyer Miranda, to say nothing of the finance moguls, hoteliers, and doctors her friends were partnered with. Considering the constant tension caused by this class gap while they were together, the nod to Steve’s economic savvy feels like an olive branch. It’s a peak Miranda compliment, tenderness carefully swaddled in an assessment of Steve’s pragmatism. What else could it be about but a brownstone?

[Read: An absurdly unrelatable show has a relatable moment]

At the start of the episode, Carrie gets a phone call from Samantha (Kim Cattrall), whose cameo has been hotly anticipated since news of it was leaked before the start of the season. Speaking from London, Samantha tells Carrie that she won’t be able to fly into New York in time for the dinner Carrie is hosting to celebrate her last days in her old apartment. The characters’ missed connection, likely also a function of the real friction between the actors, reflects the way life is changing for the women of the series as they age and take on weightier commitments. In the first Sex and the City film, Samantha actually did manage to surprise Carrie by flying in from Los Angeles to help her friend pack up her apartment in preparation for moving in with Big. “A lot of shit went down in this place,” she said then, pulling two bottles of champagne from behind her back. “Attention must be paid.”

But paying attention to a loved one’s needs as an adult—tending to their wounds in the present tense—requires a whole lot more than impulsively booking a long-haul flight or shelling out for the best bubbly. It takes more than buying a new house, even: Just as the inheritance didn’t readily soothe the grief Carrie felt when Big died, the Gramercy Park place can’t ameliorate Aidan’s guilt over not having been there for his teenage son. Relationships in need of repair can’t be mended with flights, keys, or cosmopolitans alone. Sex and the City may not always have understood that, but it seems that And Just Like That might.

In his BBC Sport column, Steve Bunce says heavyweight Daniel Dubois needs more than a 'puncher’s chance’ to dethrone champion Oleksandr Usyk in Poland on Saturday.

This article contains spoilers through Season 2 Episode 10 of And Just Like That.

And Just Like That, like no other show in our admittedly depleted television universe right now, is simultaneously a riot, a rout, and an utterly chaotic melange of small-scale storytelling and high—but-literally-am-I-high—fashion. Every episode contains at least three scenes to which there is nothing to say but “What?!?” Five weeks ago, The New Yorker ran a humor piece that imagined ludicrously banal storylines the show could tackle next; since then, two have basically happened. Last week, Miranda and Charlotte went to Chipotle, where they were confused by the fast-casual chain’s ordering system. Carrie might have a cat now? Che, a comedian who used to have a hit podcast and a sizable-enough following to get them a sitcom pilot and a Cameo presence, is doing overtime at a vet’s office again, because apparently the only two financial brackets in this world are Hudson Yards–rich and shift work.

Money is important to TV shows, I think, because striving is the engine for really good storytelling, and when most of your characters seem to be 0.001 percenters, you end up with stakes-less narrative arcs that involve Airbnbs without salad tongs and kids who forgot their notebook. Sex and the City was a thrilling show for its relatability, in a fun-house-mirror kind of way; And Just Like That exists in such a remote socioeconomic universe that watching it can feel like gawping at an exotic species in a nature documentary. (And here we see, in her native habitat, a 57-year-old female receiving an unsolicited dick pic at a fundraising lunch with Gloria Steinem. Watch her ruffle her plumage! See her eyeballs spin.)

[Read: The ghost of a once era-defining show]

All of which is why this week’s episode, inelegantly titled “The Last Supper Part One: Appetizer,” was the best of the season so far. Somehow, it married the balls-to-the-wall absurdity we’ve come to know and love (news arrives that Stanford, who departed for Japan last season, is now a Shinto monk, allowing Anthony to make an inartful “gay-sha” joke) with a surprisingly thoughtful and touching analysis of modern parenting. I’m not talking about Charlotte, whose Mad Libs storyline this week involved selling a painting to Sam Smith and getting drunk at happy hour. Rather, it was Lisa Todd Wexley—it seems necessary to say all three names, as though she were a pop icon or a Supreme Court Justice—whose unplanned pregnancy, maelstrom of conflicting emotions, and fury at her husband for not getting a vasectomy offered up something the show has absolutely been missing: authenticity.

Appropriately, the episode’s best scenes were sandwiched between truly questionable snippets of dialogue. Miranda’s new boss returned to the office after giving birth, barking, “Five weeks maternity leave is enough when the world’s in crisis, right?” (Lean in, ladies!) Miranda declared zucchini chips to be something to live for. Che delivered a stand-up routine about Miranda that was so cruel, so unnecessarily excoriating and derisive, that it threatened to obliterate the redemption arc their character has been on this season. But first, at brunch, Charlotte broke the news to the women—I can’t call them “girls,” even though I feel like I should—that Lisa’s new documentary project had been extended by PBS into a 10-part series. “They’re Ken Burns–ing you!” Miranda declared, while Lisa nodded, wanly. Later, she revealed to Charlotte the reason for her lack of enthusiasm. Why get excited about a project she doubts she’ll be able to complete? “I will be missing deadlines, I will be pumping around the clock, and I will be failing at both jobs?” she said. “Goddammit. I thought it was finally my time, Charlotte.”

[Read: ]And Just Like That addresses its Che Diaz problem

And the thing is, she’s right. Midlife is when you’re supposed to be able to pick up all of the dreams you’ve deferred—like Steve, opening his clams-and-hot-dogs joint in Coney Island to renew his sense of self after a traumatic divorce. Or Miranda, realizing that 30 years of corporate lawyering gives her enough gravitas in her new internship to take the opportunities she’s offered and not fret about the sad-salad girls still stuck doing grunt work. Or Charlotte, getting “back to me” time via a blender full of margaritas. Or Stanford, finding peace in a Kyoto temple, even if the late, great Willie Garson deserved a much better Photoshop job. But Lisa, very abruptly and unexpectedly facing another 18 years of child care, realizes that her flourishing career and creative goals might get pushed past the point of no return. “Should we be having the other discussion?” her husband, Herbert, asked. (Bless you, Herbert, for affirming a woman’s right to shoes and to choose.) “I’ve thought about it, but I can’t,” Lisa replied. “I mean, I’m really grateful that I have that option, but … I just need to wrap my head around this new reality. I will. I always do.”

That last line, delivered quietly and away from Herbert, carried a weight with it—sacrifice, sadness, an acknowledgement that you can love every single part of being a parent and still recognize all the costs that come with it. By the episode’s end, even the child-free Carrie was feeling the crunch of kids, as Aidan sobbed outside the hospital where Wyatt, his 14-year-old, had been admitted after crashing his father’s truck into a tree. On a different show, Wyatt’s accident might not have to change anything: Aidan and Carrie could continue their long-distance love affair, albeit with caution; the series could even dare to expand its geographic reach by actually having Carrie visit Aidan on his farm in Virginia. (In HBO’s companion podcast, the showrunner Michael Patrick King said they thought about doing just that, but it would have meant filming there in winter, which would have been a production hassle.) In the show as written, though, it’s easy to see how this could force the end of Aidan, whose guilt over not being present for his son makes him reluctant to keep leaving. Still, in a series where every character has main-character syndrome, it was bracing to see some of them come a little closer back to Earth.

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