1. Call of Duty infiltrates reality.

For its next trick, Call of Duty created a fake robotics firm called “The Guild” complete with real billboards in San Francisco, mock IPO materials at the New York Stock Exchange, and fabricated Wired and Forbes covers that looked just plausible enough. For a week, the internet squinted hard, unsure whether this security-obsessed startup was some new Anduril spinoff or an elaborate hoax. Turns out, it’s the villainous megacorp in Black Ops 7, set in a paranoid 2035 where the line between defense and surveillance has thoroughly dissolved.

It’s a slick stunt, sure, but also a strange reflection of our current media diet, where the line between Silicon Valley ambition and science fiction villainy is more about aesthetics than ethics. And while the whole thing reeks of overinvestment, it did manage one feat: a fictional company sparked more earnest debate about tech than most actual startups. Maybe that says more about the industry than the ad.

Also, this ad kinda reminded me of some ‘classic’ Call of Duty campaigns like The Replacer and There is a Soldier in All of Us.

2. Grow your own body positivity.

Remember those "Ch-ch-ch-chia!" commercials that lived rent-free in your head throughout the '90s? Well, Billie remembers. They just released a Chia Pet shaped like a woman with arms raised confidently, sprouting green "armpit hair". The campaign leans fully into retro infomercial aesthetics, complete with VHS-style visuals and a tweaked slogan: “It’s fun. It’s fuzzy. It’s free from all societal shame and beauty standards!” It’s nostalgic, ridiculous, and deeply intentional.

What makes this stunt land is how it uses childhood kitsch to poke at adult anxieties. As Billie points out, body hair acceptance was arguably better in the ‘90s than in the wax-obsessed 2000s, when the mere hint of stubble was treated like a personal failure. It’s a cheeky little terracotta protest, and frankly, watching society’s grooming expectations sprout out of a ceramic woman’s armpits might be the most satisfying slow-burn metaphor of the year.

3. The artist who dresses the divine.

Growing up in Venezuela, Victoria Ruiz didn’t just observe carnival - she lived it. Costumes weren’t just dress-up; they were cultural memory stitched in sequins, resistance masked as revelry. Now based in London, Ruiz works as a photographer and multidisciplinary artist whose lush, spiritually-charged portraits draw from African diasporic religions like Santería and Candomblé. Her series Para Tú Altar: Las Fuerzas Divinas de la Naturaleza nods to Celia Cruz, the Cuban salsa icon who once smuggled Santería rhythms into mainstream music, back when such traditions were suppressed or stigmatized.

What sets Ruiz apart is how she transforms costume into invocation. Her elaborate designs (think faux florals, vivid fabrics, and handmade props) aren’t static art pieces but spiritual tools, brought to life by dancers whose movements become ritual. Her work is shaped by a childhood where both folkloric tradition and political unrest loomed large, where she learned that uniforms can instill fear just as costumes can empower. In her hands, visual art becomes a kind of sacred rebellion. One that refuses to separate beauty from politics, or joy from resistance. A living altar.