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Commentary: Need a balm for these troubled times? I recommend the works of P.G. Wodehouse
Seeking succor when the world seems to be closing in on you is a quintessentially human habit. Some people do it by gorging on comfort food like macaroni and cheese, others choose drink, or drugs, or gardening, or the warmth of a puppy.
I always know when I’m feeling blue, because I feel the gravitational pull of my long shelf of P.G. Wodehouse books.
If you’ve never read Wodehouse, I envy you the pleasure of discovering him for the first time. I’m well past that point; some of his stories and novels I’ve read dozens, even hundreds of times, and they can still make me convulse in laughter. More so when the outside world provides little to laugh about.
Evelyn Waugh, who admitted to learning a hell of a lot from Wodehouse, may have put it best: “Mr. Wodehouse’s idyllic world can never stale,” he wrote in a 1961 essay designed in part to defend Wodehouse over the one blot on his life story (more on that in a bit). “He will continue to release future generations from captivity that may be more irksome than our own. He has made a world for us to live in and delight in.”
And what is that world? It’s timeless, and yet dated. Orwell narrowed it down to the Edwardian era — 1901 to 1919 — long before the irruptions of two world wars and the Great Depression. Its inhabitants are those of “there will always be an England” England: stern vicars, timid curates, lords and earls, penniless titled wastrels living on allowances from their uncles, imperious aunts, upper-crust twits.
They’re all presented on the page by an inspired farceur whose exquisitely penned prose seems effortless, but belies the painstaking craftsmanship needed to make his split-second timing come off.
Some Wodehouse lines are like time bombs, detonating with a momentary delay. My favorite comes in an exchange with the soupy Madeline Bassett in “The Code of the Woosters,” when Bertie comes up with a quote he heard from Jeeves, actually the title of a poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley, to describe his friend Gussie Fink-Nottle as “a sensitive plant.”
“Exactly,” Madeline replies. “You know your Shelley, Bertie.”
“Oh, am I?”
Where to start with Wodehouse? He used several framing devices for his novels and short stories. The golf stories are narrated by the “oldest member” of an upper-class golf club who buttonholes unwary younger members to regale them with his memories of golfers he has known.
The peak of this series, to me, is “Farewell to Legs,” featuring a playboy who takes a house in a placid golfing community and discomposes its dour Scottish golfers with his high jinks: “Angus became aware with a sinking heart that here, as he had already begun to suspect, was a life-and-soul-of-the-party man, a perfect scream, and an absolutely priceless fellow who simply makes you die with the things he says.”
Then there are the fish stories told by Mr. Mulliner at his local pub the Angler’s Rest, involving his inexhaustible circle of relatives. To me, the glory of the Mulliner stories are a sequence of three stories — “Mulliner’s Buck-U-Uppo,” “The Bishop’s Move” and “Gala Night,” all related to his brother Wilfred’s invention of a tonic meant to “provide Indian Rajahs with a specific which would encourage their elephants to face a tiger of the jungle with a jaunty sang-froid,” and what happens when unsuspecting users swallow a tumblerful of something that should be taken by the teaspoon.
Some are set in New York and Hollywood, where Wodehouse spent some time writing lyrics for musicals with Jerome Kern and others. (His best-known song is probably “Bill,” from “Show Boat.”)
But at the summit of Wodehouse’s genius are the stories of Bertie Wooster and his “gentleman’s personal gentleman,” or valet, Jeeves. Of the short stories, all narrated by Bertie, to my mind the greatest are a trilogy beginning with “The Great Sermon Handicap,” continuing with “The Purity of the Turf,” and concluding with what may be the single funniest short story ever penned in English, “The Metropolitan Touch.”
Bertie and Jeeves, as the British essayist Alexander Cockburn once asserted, are a pairing as momentous in literary history as Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, or Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. Wodehouse never exhausted the counterpoint between Bertie’s slangy gibbering and half-remembered literary allusions with Jeeves’ carefully modulated responses: “Very well, Jeeves, you agree with me that the situation is a lulu?” “Certainly a somewhat sharp crisis in your affairs would appear to have been precipitated, sir.”
Bertie is both a classic unreliable narrator and a stock comic character given life. Having inherited a fortune from parents who are almost never mentioned, he’s rich enough for financial difficulties to never be a plot obstruction, though he’s always willing to tide over a pal brought low by “unfortunate speculations” at the racecourse. Jeeves is a deus ex machina; we learn almost nothing about him, except for imperturbability and skill at solving the crises that Bertie falls into through his pure cloth-headedness.
Bertie’s romantic relations are entirely sexless, 20th-century echoes of courtly love, though throughout the oeuvre he gets engaged to at least six women by my count. Among them towers the frighteningly domineering Honoria Glossop. (“Honoria, you see, is one of those robust, dynamic girls with the muscles of a welter-weight and a laugh like a squadron of cavalry charging over a tin bridge.”)
Jeeves extricates Bertie from every one of these entanglements, and thankfully so, because every fiancée begins their relationship with the determination to toss Jeeves out on his ear.
Wodehouse aficionados wage a never-ending debate over which Jeeves and Wooster book is his masterpiece, with “The Code of the Woosters” (1938) and “Joy in the Morning” (1946) typically trading the top two spots.
I’m partial to the former, in part because it features the only overtly political character Wodehouse ever devised. He’s Roderick Spode, a would-be British dictator plainly based on the real-life British fascist and Hitler partisan Oswald Mosley.
Spode is the leader of a gang of fascist toughs known as the Black Shorts. “You mean ‘shorts,’ don’t you?” Bertie says when he first hears about Spode. “No,” he’s told, “by the time Spode formed his association, there were no shirts left. He and his adherents wear black shorts.” “Footer bags, you mean?” Bertie asks, a Britishism for football shorts. “How perfectly foul.”
Spode throws his weight around Brinkley Court, the country estate where the story takes place, harrying Bertie endlessly for reasons we don’t need to go into, until Jeeves provides Bertie with a magic word guaranteed to turn dictator Spode into a shrinking mouse. At the climax, Bertie presses his advantage, informing his nemesis:
“The trouble with you, Spode, is that just because you have succeeded in inducing a handful of half-wits to disfigure the London scene by going about in black shorts, you think you’re someone. You hear them shouting ‘Heil, Spode,’ and you imagine it is the Voice of the People. That is where you make your bloomer. What the Voice of the People is saying is: ‘Look at that frightful ass Spode swanking about in footer bags. Did you ever in your puff see such a perfect perisher?’”
It’s no spoiler to tell you that the magic word Jeeves provides to Bertie is “Eulalie.” As for who or what Eulalie is, and why it reduces Spode to jelly, you’ll have to read the book.
That brings us to that one blot on Wodehouse’s life. When World War II broke out, he was living peaceably in the French resort of Le Touquet. When the Nazis came through in 1940 they interned Wodehouse and transported him to Berlin, from which the Germans persuaded him to make a handful of “nonpolitical” radio broadcasts for his British compatriots.
There was an uproar at home. Newspaper columnists condemned Wodehouse as a “Quisling,” libraries took his books off their shelves, there were condemnatory speeches in Parliament.
The truth is that the broadcasts were indeed nonpolitical; if the Germans thought they had scored a propaganda victory it was instantly evident that they were wrong, and they halted the broadcasts after only five. Wodehouse had displayed nothing worse than the stupidity of the innocent. He knew nothing of the political context, much less that his broadcasts came at a moment when the very future of Britain was in question.
But that fit precisely with Wodehouse’s literary landscape. Farce, of course, depends on its characters’ failure to recognize what is near at hand; Wodehouse in his splendid isolation in France and in a bygone fictional Eden was incapable of recognizing the crisis in Britain was so near at hand that his broadcasts would strike hard at his countrymen’s diminishing morale.
Orwell’s opinion of Wodehouse’s attackers was withering. “It was excusable to be angry at what Wodehouse did,” he wrote in 1946, “but to go on denouncing him three or four years later — and more, to let an impression remain that he acted with conscious treachery — is not excusable. Few things in this war have been more morally disgusting than the present hunt after traitors and Quislings. At best it is largely the punishment of the guilty by the guilty. … In England the fiercest tirades against Quislings are uttered by Conservatives who were practicing appeasement in 1938 and Communists who were advocating it in 1940.”
One could go on. The pleasures of Wodehouse are inexhaustible, so I’ll stop here. With some news about Trump’s tariffs threatening to disturb my peace today, and having just finished a rereading of “The Code of the Woosters,” I will share the next few hours with G. Darcy (“Stilton”) Cheesewright, Zenobia Hopwood, Edwin the Boy Scout, Boko Fittleworth and Percy, Lord Worplesdon, and their horseplay in and around Steeple Bumpleigh, Hampshire.
Looking back on the affair and its satisfying resolution, Bertie tells Jeeves, “There’s an expression on the tip of my tongue which seems to me to sum the whole thing up. … Something about Joy doing something.”
“Joy cometh in the morning, sir?”
“That’s the baby. Not one of your things, is it?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, it’s dashed good.”

Business
Commentary: Has Musk lied about self-driving Teslas? California says so

Over the years, Elon Musk has been known for making extravagant promises about the capabilities of Tesla cars, and for falling short.
California has finally called him out, via a lawsuit accusing Tesla of leading buyers to believe that its vehicles can operate autonomously — as self-driving cars — which they “could not and cannot do.” That amounts to false advertising, the Department of Motor Vehicles asserts.
The DMV is seeking to bar Tesla from selling cars in the state for at least 30 days. A five-day hearing in the case began Monday in Oakland before a DMV administrative law judge.
Professional investors, and most amateur investors as well, know how to devalue the optimism of corporate executives.
— Tesla, defending its unproven claims for its cars’ self-driving capabilities
A suspension of car sales in California would be a serious problem for Tesla, given that the state has generally accounted for some 30% of its U.S. domestic sales; the U.S. has accounted for roughly half of worldwide sales.
Through June this year, Tesla sales have fallen more than 18% in California compared with the same period a year ago, at least in part because of Musk’s increasingly visible engagement with right-wing politics, his online embrace of racist and antisemitic viewpoints, and the rampage through federal agencies conducted by his minions at DOGE.
Tesla’s EV market share in the state fell to 45.3% in the first half from 53.4% in the first half of 2024.
Tesla’s second-quarter results, released after the stock market’s close Wednesday, bore no reason for joy among investors. The company reported a 12% revenue decline compared with the same quarter in 2024, which it attributed to a decline in auto deliveries, and a 42% decline in operating profit.
Tesla has had to fight accusations of false claims about its cars’ autonomous capabilities before. Indeed, lists of overly optimistic or overconfident forecasts by Musk of Tesla sales and technological capabilities are common on the web. Not a few investors have learned to build in a standard deflation factor to bring these projections closer to reality or plausibility.
“Within two years,” Musk said in 2016, “you’ll be able to summon your car from across the country. It will meet you wherever your phone is … and it will just automatically charge itself along the entire journey.” In 2020, he told an engineering conference that he was “confident that we will have the basic functionality for Level 5 autonomy complete this year.”
Level 5, as defined by the Society of Automotive Engineers, is the highest self-driving category, allowing a vehicle to operate without a human driver ever taking control and in all conditions. No manufacturer has yet turned out a Level 5 vehicle, and some engineers doubt it will ever be possible. The most advanced autonomous vehicles today are Level 2 or 3, in which human drivers must take control all or some of the time.
A video posted on Tesla’s website in 2016 featured a car purportedly stopping at a red light and obeying other traffic signals, with the caption, “The person in the driver’s seat is only there for legal reasons. He is not doing anything. The car is driving itself.” A Tesla engineer later testified that the car followed a mapped route and that it did not have the capabilities shown in the video.
A Tesla shareholder lawsuit filed in 2023 cited more than 20 false or misleading statements Musk or Tesla made about the stage of its self-driving technology, its safety and its capabilities, dating back to 2019.
During a podcast that year, for example, Musk claimed that by the end of the year a Tesla car “will be able to find you in a parking lot, pick you up, take you all the way to your destination without an intervention … I’m certain of that. That is not a question mark.” The California authorities assert that that’s still not possible, in 2025.
Tesla’s defense in the shareholder case included the argument that statements like those were “mere corporate puffery, vague statements of optimism.” They shouldn’t be part of a lawsuit, the company said, because “professional investors, and most amateur investors as well, know how to devalue the optimism of corporate executives.”
We’ve heard the “puffery” defense before. Typically, businesses use it to defend against charges that its advertising claims are deceptive, on the grounds that no one believes advertisements anyway.
Wells Fargo used it in an attempt to fend off a 2018 shareholder lawsuit alleging that the bank’s claim that it was working to “restore trust” among its customers after a string of scandals was false. The bank’s response was that such statements were “puffery” — so generic that they couldn’t “cause a reasonable investor to rely upon them.” Wells Fargo eventually settled the lawsuit for $300 million, without admitting wrongdoing.
A federal judge dismissed the shareholder lawsuit last year, finding that some of the statements by Tesla and Musk were indeed mere “puffery” and others were either true or otherwise irrelevant. The plaintiffs, which are public pension funds, have appealed the dismissal.
California authorities filed their case against Tesla in July 2022. Their accusation has four main components. They argue that by labeling its autonomous driving functions “Autopilot” and “Full Self-Driving Capability,” the company has implied to customers that the cars can drive themselves.
The state also cited two snippets of language on the Tesla website. One stated, “The system is designed to be able to conduct short and long-distance trips with no action required by the person in the driver’s seat.” The other said, in part, “All you will need to do is get in and tell your car where to go. … Your Tesla will figure out the optimal route, navigating urban streets, complex intersections and freeways.”
Tesla didn’t reply to my request for a comment. But in its trial brief, filed July 17, the company asserted that its Autopilot and Full Self-Driving descriptions have always been qualified by warnings to users that the available features “require active driver supervision and do not make the vehicle autonomous.” It said that more than a year ago it dropped the label “Full Self-Driving Capability,” or FSDC, and replaced it with “Full Self-Driving (Supervised).”
As for the language the state cited, Tesla said that the phrases appeared only on “an aspirational webpage designed to recruit engineers … to develop future FSDC features,” and weren’t aimed at buyers — in other words, they were not meant to be factual claims. In any case, Tesla said, that webpage “no longer exists.” Its web address now steers users to the webpage for Full Self-Driving (Supervised).
Tesla also contended that there is no “direct evidence of consumer confusion” over the autonomy of its vehicles. The DMV, it said, merely concluded that “consumers may interpret Autopilot of FSDC terminology as being synonymous” with autonomous operation, but that’s not enough for a false advertising claim. (Emphasis in the original.)
It’s true that Tesla’s self-driving features haven’t been successfully blamed in court for producing injuries or fatalities; Tesla has settled at least three cases involving claims that its self-driving systems were responsible for fatal accidents. One case involved the death of an Apple engineer whose Tesla struck a highway barrier while he was playing a video game with Autopilot allegedly activated. The settlement terms were undisclosed.
Tesla’s record could change, however, with the outcome of a trial currently taking place in federal court in Miami. The case was brought by the families of two victims who died when a Tesla with Autopilot engaged slammed into an SUV near where they were standing. One died and the other suffered serious injuries. The driver of the Tesla had taken his eyes off the road to search for a cellphone he had dropped, and the vehicle continued through an intersection before striking the SUV.
In certifying the case for trial, federal Judge Beth Bloom ruled that “a reasonable jury could find that Tesla acted in reckless disregard of human life for the sake of developing their product and maximizing profit.” She also cleared the plaintiffs to seek punitive damages if the jury finds against Tesla.
These legal developments come at a sensitive moment for Tesla. Sales are down not only in California, but also in much of the world. In the European Union, Tesla sales fell 45.2% this year through May, compared with a year earlier.
Tesla’s sales of regulatory credits to automakers that don’t exclusively market EVs but have needed to meet federal fleet emission standards are likely to evaporate; the budget bill recently signed by President Trump eliminates the financial penalties for automakers that don’t meet those standards, removing their incentive to buy credits from Tesla.
Sales of those credits came to $2.76 billion last year, nearly 40% of Tesla’s reported profit for the year. Without the credit sales, which came to $595 million in the first quarter of this year, which ended March 31, Tesla would have reported a loss for the quarter instead of a $420-million profit. Tesla is scheduled to report second-quarter financial results next week.
The company faces challenges other than Musk’s waning public esteem and its sales decline. As I reported in March, the company faces ever-stiffer secular headwinds, including competition from legacy automakers moving into the electric vehicle market.
Its reputation for cutting-edge technology is eroding; the company’s largest Chinese rival, BYD, recently announced a new charging technology it says can add about 250 miles of range to an EV in five minutes — even less than the time it takes to fill a conventional car’s gas tank to the same level. Tesla says its top-of-the-line superchargers need 15 minutes to add 200 miles of charge.
Tesla’s product lineup is looking increasingly antique. Its clunky and widely disdained Cybertruck is beginning to look like a lemon. In March, regulators ordered a recall of all the trucks — the eighth recall since its introduction in 2023 — this time to address the tendency of metal trims along both sides to get ripped off at highway speeds because the glue that attaches them fails.
Sales have been sinking: Kelley Blue Book reported earlier this month that Tesla sold only 4,306 Cybertrucks in the second quarter this year, down by nearly one-third from the second quarter of 2024, and down by 50% in the first half of 2025 compared with last year’s first half.
Tesla’s stock has long been buoyed by Musk’s reputation as a farsighted entrepreneur — based in part on his enticing visions of Tesla’s prospects. Those are beginning to fray, and the full dimensions of the wear-and-tear may not yet be fully evident.
Business
Former CBS and Disney TV executive James Stark Bennett dies at 78

Television executive James Stark Bennett II, known for developing talk show “Live with Regis and Kathie Lee,” has died at 78.
Bennett, who went by Jamie, died July 6 after a fight with cancer, according to his family.
He spent more than a decade at CBS, where he was an executive at television and radio stations in San Francisco and Chicago before coming to Los Angeles, where he served as vice president and general manager at KCBS-TV.
Bennett then moved over to the Walt Disney Co., where he served as senior vice president of Buena Vista Television Productions. In that role, he developed such shows as “Live with Regis and Kathie Lee,” “Siskel & Ebert” and the game show “Win, Lose or Draw.”
He later became president and chief executive at ACI, a Los Angeles-based TV and film distributor. When ACI was bought by Britain-based Pearson Television in 1995, Bennett and his family moved to London, where he ran the company’s worldwide production.
He eventually moved back to L.A., where he got involved in volunteer work and expanded his career beyond the entertainment industry by becoming chief operating officer at the Southern California Institute of Architecture. There, he was instrumental in helping the school establish its permanent base in L.A.’s Arts District, his family said. He also served on the board of the Ojai Music Festival, later becoming its president and CEO for five years until 2020.
Bennett was born in New York City on June 1, 1947. He later graduated from UC Berkeley, where he chaired a student-run summer program in Washington, D.C., and started his media career as the program director for the university’s radio station. After getting his MBA from Harvard Business School, he moved back to New York to take a job at CBS, which launched his media career.
He and his wife, Carolyn, eventually purchased an 11-acre farm in Ojai, which became their permanent residence. Bennett is survived by his wife, Carolyn, their three children and other family members.
Business
Uvalde school shooter was fueled by Instagram and 'Call of Duty,' L.A. lawsuit alleges

Tess Mata’s parents were once enthusiastic about social media. The 10-year-old from Uvalde, Texas, wanted to be TikTok famous. She used to dance, sing and imitate popular trends on her videos, with mom Veronica and dad Jerry keeping a watchful eye on her online habits.
But then Tess was gunned down at Robb Elementary School in 2022, one of 19 children and two teachers killed by a former student.
Since then, as details of the shooter’s personal life have become public, the Matas and a handful of other Uvalde families have come to believe that his exposure to gun content online and in video games led to the tragedy.
Jerry and Veronica Mata stand in front of the Spring Street Courthouse on July 17 in Los Angeles. After their daughter Tess was killed in the school shooting in Uvalde, Texas, the couple are suing Meta, Activision and Daniel Defense in an attempt to challenge social media and video game marketing that they say urged the shooter to commit violence.
(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)
They are now suing three companies they allege profited off the violent fantasies that led to their children’s deaths. The defendants include the maker of “Call of Duty,” a first-person military shooter game where they say 18-year-old Salvador Ramos encountered a virtual version of a Daniel Defense-branded AR-15 he used in the attack. They are also suing Meta, alleging Ramos encountered ads for the gun that promoted violence on Instagram.
The Matas and three other families from Uvalde will travel more than 1,200 miles this week to confront the companies in L.A. County Superior Court, where they have filed claims for negligence, aiding and abetting and wrongful death.
“They glorify these weapons. They made it enticing for young kids to want to purchase these guns, and kids that young are so receptive to these types of things,” Veronica Mata told The Times.
Activision, the Santa Monica-based video game developer, has filed for dismissal, arguing that the 1st Amendment protects “Call of Duty” as a work of art. Meta has also fought to have the case tossed, pointing to well-established case law that shields social media platforms from liability for third-party content posted by users and advertisers.
Whether the case proceeds could be decided at a hearing Friday in downtown L.A.

Jerry Mata holds dog tag necklaces of his daughter Tess, one of 19 students killed at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, in 2022.
(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)
The families allege “Call of Duty,” one of the top-grossing video game franchises in the world, encouraged violence by catching Ramos in a repeated gameplay loop with real-world weapons. And they claim Instagram equipped him with the knowledge of how, when and where to buy the gun he used.
“To put a finer point on it: Defendants are chewing up alienated teenage boys and spitting out mass shooters,” the complaint claims, noting that the three most deadly K-12 school shootings in American history — Uvalde, Parkland and Sandy Hook — were all committed by young men who played “Call of Duty” and used an AR-15.
“Call of Duty is a simulation, not a game. It teaches players how to aim, reload, and fire accurately, while habituating the teenage nervous system to inflict repeated, graphic violence. And though the killing is virtual, the weapons are authentic,” the complaint alleges.
Ramos’ choice of the Daniel Defense AR-15 was intentional, the lawsuit said. The small weapons manufacturer has a market share of less than 1%, but a specific rail displayed on a popular “Call of Duty” gun made it easily identifiable to players online despite a lack of branding inside the game.
“It is the Defendants who gave Daniel Defense a direct line into children’s homes and heads, who wrote a playbook for how to peddle firearms while circumventing parents and the law, and who created a simulation with real-life weapons and applauded children for their proficiency at killing,” the complaint said.
Meta did not immediately respond to The Times’ request for comment, nor did Daniel Defense, another defendant in the lawsuit.
A photo of a weapon next to the truck that the Robb Elementary School shooter crashed before the shooting on May 24, 2022.
(Pete Luna / Uvlade Leader-News)
Courts have long rejected the idea that violent video games like “Call of Duty” are responsible for the actions of those who play them despite the moral panic surrounding the issue, and have also overturned efforts to restrict minors’ access to them.
Most modern “Call of Duty” games are rated for mature audiences over 17 by the Entertainment Software Ratings Board, but are available to minors through online marketplaces that don’t meaningfully verify someone’s age before purchase.
“Any adolescent that wants to download Call of Duty can do that,” Josh Koskoff, a lawyer for the Uvalde families, told The Times.
A 2011 Supreme Court case, Brown vs. Entertainment Merchants Assn., struck down a 2005 California law that banned the sale of violent video games to minors. There was “no tradition in this country of specially restricting children’s access to depictions of violence. … Grimm’s Fairy Tales, for example, are grim indeed,” the late Justice Antonin Scalia wrote in the 7-2 majority opinion.
Activision has long defended its games as protected artistic expression despite criticism of its extreme violence, which sometimes involves players killing other combatants — almost never allowing civilian casualties — in combat simulations, sometimes in public arenas like airports and urban sprawls.
“Call of Duty tells complex stories that explore the real-world combat scenarios that soldiers face in modern warfare. There can be no doubt Call of Duty is expressive and fully protected by the First Amendment,” the company said in a court filing.
The families still mourning their children say challenging the institutions that failed to protect them has been an ongoing fight. The new case is another chapter which feels like taking on giants, Veronica Mata said.
A woman walks near “Call of Duty” publicity on Dec. 7, 2022, in New York City.
(VIEW press / Corbis via Getty Images)
The city of Uvalde approved in May a $2-million settlement for a flawed police response to the shooting, and a Texas appeals court Wednesday ordered the release of documents from the school board and county about the shooting, local news reported.
“We can step forward, and we can make that change and make them understand that what they’ve done and what they continue to do is not benefiting them or anybody else,” Mata said.
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